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AUTOBIOGRAPHY 


BY 

REV. GEORGE H. DEERE, D. D. 

PASTOR EMERITUS OF 

All Souls Universalist Church 
Riverside, California 

COMPLETED BY 

MRS. GEORGE H. DEERE 

i > 


PRESS PRINTING COMPANY 

RIVERSIDE, CALIFORNIA 

1908 



“The culture of the school gives, with intell¬ 
ectual fibre, diversity of tongues, but does not fur¬ 
nish the minister with the things to be spoken. 
One may be wholly equipped for scholastic contes t ? 
and prepared for all exigencies in fields of philos¬ 
ophy and letters, and find himself naked before the 
world’s sin and grief. The armor of God is not 
hung with the arms of Achilles, nor is there a 
Vulcan among the sciences who can forge for hum¬ 
anity the breastplate of righteousness, the shield of 


faith, or the sword of the spirit.” 

•V 


G. H. D. 



O '"'fO o 

2 3 S.<S& 




CONTENTS 


EARLIEST RECOLLECTIONS. 

Mother Sad—Father Goes to Sea—Half-Pay Hitch— 
First Visit to Brooklyn—Friends There—St. Luke’s 
Hospital and Elm Street Eye Infirmary—A Report 
of Father’s Death—Westward to Buffalo—Father’s 
Return As From the Dead—From Buffalo to Erie, 
Pa.. 1 


II. 

ERIE AS REMEMBERED IN 1867 


14 


III. 

FROM ERIE TO BROOKLYN. 

Stop Over at Brooklyn—Stop Over at Rochester, N. Y. 
Life in Brooklyn—Walk to Newark, N. J.—Resi¬ 
dence There .24 


IV. 

REGULAR SCHOOLING IN NEWARK. 

Home Schooling .34 


Y. 

FROM NEWARK TO UTICA. 

Death of My Father—Return to Brooklyn—Dr. Willard 
Parker and Granville Sharpe Patison, 510 Broad¬ 
way, N. Y.41 


YI. 

MRS. ASENATH NICHOLSON. 

Dr. Willard Parker—Dr. Patison and 510 Broadway— 
Loss of Left Eye .50 








CONTENTS 


VII. 

COMING TO MYSELF. 

David Felt’s School of Work and Study—Into, and Out 
of Soul Gloom—Abel C. Thomas and Universalism. 
Conversion to Universalism.61 

VIII. 

FROM PRESS TO WAREROOM. 

A Fire—Aim of Life Determined—New Church—Liter¬ 
ary Association .73 


IX. 

OUTING TO WILTON AND DANBURY. 

The Five in Meetings for Mutual Improvement—A Dis¬ 
turbed Meeting and a Night Watch With the 
Dead—Thomas Goes and Thayer Comes.84 

X. 

EARLY INCLINATION TOWARDS MINISTRY. 

Playing Church—McDonald’s Discovery and Its Conse¬ 
quences—An Impulse Developed Into a Purpose— 
Leave David Felt, and Clerk in Drug Store, Then 
Go to Clinton and am Visited by Friend Spafford 
D. McDonald .93 


XI. 

MY CHUM J. E. DAVENPORT. 

C. H. Leonard—Roll of the Class in ’46 and ’47—Our 
Daily Routine—Studied Sawyer Sundays and in 
Debates—First Sermon Before the Class—Sawyer’s 
Standing Challenge in Village Paper—Debate 
with a Layman—Social Life in Clinton—Exercise 
and Study—Visit of Whittemore and of Hosea 
Ballou, 2d.98 


XII. 

FIRST PUBLIC SERVICE. 

Some Talk About Extemporaneous Preaching—Sermon 
Souls and Bodies—Saying and Preaching—Preach¬ 
ing and Treading on Words.107 








CONTENTS 


XIII. 

HOME TO BROOKLYN. 

Causes for Not Returning to Clinton—Home With T. 
B. Thayer, E. H. Chapin, T. S. King, A. C. Thomas, 
Otis A. Skinner—A Wedding Divides a Home— 
Study Thayer’s Helps—Monday Rendezvous of the 
Ministers . 115 


XIV. 

PRELIMINARY SERVICE IN WALLPACK, 

NEW JERSEY. 

.126 


XY. 

MR. WHITFIELD. 

N. Y. A. U. License to Preach—Nyack, Haverstraw and 
New City—Thayer’s Lesson in Ministerial Econom¬ 
ics—Introduction to the Use of Glasses.134 

XVI. 

BEGINNING AT DANBURY, CONN. 

Methods of Work—My Sister Jane Joins Me—Home in 
the Bates House on Worcester Street—Donation 
Party—Retreats—Sympathies .141 


XVII. 

ORDINATION. 

Relations to Women and Thoughts of Marriage—First 
Wedding—Interest in Child Culture and Public 
Schools—P. T. Barnum in “Danbury Times”— 
Chapin and Balch at a Fair and Festival.152 

XVIII. 

MARRIAGE OF MY SISTER. 

Question Settled—Courtship Trial of Faith—Miss Mary 
Bull—Who Should Marry Us—Henry Lyon—Xmas 
Eve, 1850—Rev. J. S. Hillyer, N. Salem—An Intro¬ 
duction and Tip-over in a Snow Bank.163 


XIX. 

GO TO WARREN. 

Schools — Cowe’s, Etc.— Massachusetts Convention — 
Boston—Winchester Association—U. S. General 
Convention .174 









CONTENTS 


XX. 

WARREN—SCHOOLS—TYPHOID FEVER- 
SPIRITISM. 


179 


XXI. 


WARREN. 

From Cowes’ to Captain Davis’—Exchange With Abra¬ 
ham Norwood of Meriden—Visit of Timothy Elliott 
—Move to the House of John Blair—Exchange With 
Harrison Closson of Chicopee—Care of Schools 
Dropped Almost Exclusively Into My Hands— 
Luther Walcott Exchanged With Chicopee—Nathan 
Richardson, a Friend Indeed—H. D. L. Webster— 
Wife Goes to Danbury for First Visit to Her Old 
Home While I Go to Boston..188 

XXII. 

FROM BOSTON TO BRATTLEBORO, VT. 

.193 


XXIII. 

BRATTLEBORO. 

Funerals and Weddings—Dr. E. C. Cross—Humor—Sec¬ 
tarian Unfriendliness—Close of ’59—Visit of Dr. 
T. B. Thayer and Wife—Call to South Dedham and 
Melrose—Resignation—Brattleboro Matters From 
the Diaries .206 


XXIV. 

MELROSE. 

Life in the Vicinity of Boston—Where We Remain One 
Year—East Winds Affect Seriously the Throat of 
Louie, and Combining With the Ominous Clouds 
of War, Compel Us to Go to the Interior of the 
State, Where We Find Health and Friends.221 


XXV. 

Letter to the Shelburne Falls First Universalist So¬ 
ciety on the Occasion of the Fiftieth Anniversary 
of Their Organization, Written at Riverside, Cal., 
February, 1903, by G. H. Deere .227 








CONTENTS 


XXVI. 

LA CROSSE. 

Going to the Mississippi With a Sick Wife, Who Keeps 
Up Her Courage and Makes Brave Effort to Re¬ 
gain Health—Warm Friends Welcome and Care 
for Us Both—My First Experience in Raising 
Debt on Church — Great Success — After Four 
Years of Enjoyable Labor, Accept a Call to New 
Orleans ..235 


XXVII. 

ENROUTE TO THE CRESENT CITY. 

New Orleans—It Seems Quite Like a Foreign City— 
Southern People Warm Hearted—Met Many at St. 
Charles Hotel—Church Unique—Like Campanile— 
Louie Took Occasion to Test Power of Yellow 
Fever—Did Not Yield to Its Powers Nor Bequeath 
It to Me.243 

XXVIII. 

LEAVING NEW ORLEANS. 

Accepting the Second Invitation to Rochester, Minn., 
Where We Went December, 1874, and Had a Most 
Delightful Time for Eight Years, Building a Fine 
Brick Church and Adding Large Numbers to the 
Church Fold—Celebrated Silver Wedding, Leav- 
in 1881 for Missionary Work in Southern Cali¬ 
fornia—Mrs. Deere’s Part.257 

XXIX. 

TO THE GOLDEN WEST. 

The Garden of Eden Becomes Our Home for. Twenty- 
Six Years—During That Time Celebrated Our 
Golden Wedding—Also Rounding Out the Doctor’s 
Four-score Years—Building Our Stone Church for 
All Time—A Thing of Beauty and Source of En¬ 
joyment to the Whole State—The Doctor’s Work 
in All Progressive Movements—Losing His Sight 
Entirely—Obliged to Give Up the Work He Loves 
and Has Been Engaged in for Fifty Years.270 

XXX. 

SELECTED SERMONS AND ADDRESSES. 


317 




























ILLUSTRATIONS 


Rev. George H. Deere, D. D.Frontispiece 

Mrs. George H. Deere.facing page 257 

Church at Rochester, Minn., 

Built by Dr. George H. Deere.facing page 261 

Dr. and Mrs. George H. Deere, 


at their home, Riverside, California, facing page 274 

All Souls’ Universalist Church, Riverside, 

founded by Dr. Deere, now pastor emeritus 
.facing page 291 







INTRODUCTION 


This book is at once a memoir and a “confes¬ 
sion.” We may say to the honored author not only 
thy deeds, but “thy speech betrayeth thee.” “Un¬ 
conscious portraiture” Dr. Leonard calls it, and 
all the more revealing for that. It is a sane, beau¬ 
tiful, productive soul which thus takes us into 
confidence. Of such expression there can never 
be too much. 

I am not able to accept “ the Choir Invisible” 
as a full statement of man’s “longing after im¬ 
mortality.” To “live again in minds made better 
by one’s presence” is fine and superior, but not a 
sufficient survival. Nor to be “only remembered 
by what we have done,” for that would mean 
swift oblivion for most of us. It seems to me nor¬ 
mal, and therefore proper and praiseworthy, to 
desire to retain a personal stake in the thoughts 
and aifections of those to whom we have been 
joined in love and association. Besides, every life 
is significant and merits record; much more a 
life which has knit itself to other lives by service; 
most of all a life which has communicated life, 
and to which the gates of heaven open because 
it comes not alone. 

Dr. Deere has put us under obligation by this 


INTRODUCTION 


narrative of struggle and achievements, told with 
characteristic modesty and grace, but also with 
inevitable thrill and passion. He lives in the 
record of noble deeds, and in minds and hearts 
enriched by his touch; it is fitting that his spirit¬ 
ual portrait also should be drawn for those to 
whom he was more than an influence, namely a 
fragrant, forceful personality. 

I welcome the privilege of voicing here my in¬ 
terest in the story as a story, and my esteem for 
the man as a man. He has won and wears on his 
breast the insignia of a Church’s honor. He has 
served that fellowship on all three of our national 
coasts, and towards its northern border, and thus 
enclosed the country with a circle of ministry rich 
and benign. In all these labors and localities the 
comradeship of the dear wife, who takes the un¬ 
finished task from his fingers and consummates it 
in this volume, has been an unfailing source of 
personal happiness and professional power. To 
them both their multitude of friends tender con¬ 
gratulations, thanks, love and heartfelt wishes 
for pleasant and peaceful days to the end of the 
journey. 

C. ELLWOOD NASH. 

Los Angeles, Cal., October 9, 1908. 


PREFACE 


The Los Angeles Times yesterday, July 25th, 
1899, startled us with the telegraphic announce¬ 
ment that Thomas J. Sawyer, a distinguished 
veteran of the Universalist church, lies dead in 
the city of Boston, aged 95 years. 

Abel C. Thomas, Thomas B. Thayer, and 
Thomas J. Sawyer who shaped my youth and 
led me to consecrate my life to the ministry 
of Jesus Christ under the auspices of the Uni¬ 
versalist Church, are now “by the kiss of God,” 
as the ancient Hebrews called the death of 
Miriam, Aaron and Moses, crowned with life in 
the eternal light. What am I that I should 
crowd my way among the decorous mourners 
to throw my loving tribute into the open grave 
of our revered Thomas J. Sawyer, Though my 
heart is burning with desire, I cannot do it. 
I have leisure now, however, while “waiting 
the boatman pale,” to look back and trace the 
path along which I have been led, and live 
again and record some of the experiences as 
I find them in memory. To me they illustrate 
the words of the old Catholic hymn: 

When over dizzy steeps we go, 

One soft hand blinds our eyes; 

The other leads us safe and slow, 

O, love of God most wise! 

Somebody may see and sympathetically share 


PREFACE 


in my sad story of “the days of auld lang syne,” 
and profit by it. Somebody interested in my 
work in the church may want to know how I 
came into it, and grew in it to be one of its 
public servants. As it must be about myself 
I lay aside the questionable modesty that shrinks 
from the use of the first person singular. Yes, 
I will write, and trust the writing to Providence. 
Possibly there may be some use for it. 

G. H. D. 


GEORGE H. DEERE 


CHAPTER I 

EARLIEST RECOLLECTIONS. 

Mother Sad—Father Goes to Sea—Half-Pay Hitch— 
First Visit to Brooklyn—Friends There—St. Luke’s 
Hospital and Elm Street Eye Infirmary—A Report of 
Father’s Death—Westward to Buffalo—Father’s Re¬ 
turn As From the Dead—From Buffalo to Erie, Pa. 

My earliest recollections are of childhood in 
Madison County, New York. The most vivid 
are of troubles with my eyes when chairs were 
so high that I could only hold myself on my 
feet by clinging to the edge of the seat, and of 
tables up out of reach; of the birth of my only 
sister, Alvira Jane, which set me aside as an 
old baby; of being carried to church and into 
the gallery where mother sang, and of being 
so frightened by the big Bass Viol as to cry 
out, and be carried out; of listening to the- 
monotonous tones of the preacher and silently 
weeping—for what I know not, and probably 
knew not. I have been told that I always wept 
so when listening to the voice from the pulpit. 
Next to the church are the memories of a school 


2 



2 


GEORGE El. DEERE 


room full of children, in which my mother was 
teacher. 

I remember my mother was very sad, and 
cried a great deal as I nestled at her back o’ 
nights. She would hold me and tell me of 
father’s having gone to sea; and, while looking 
at a picture he had made of himself, she would 
say “He will soon come back with enough to 
make us all happy.” Then she would kiss the 
picture and sob, and I would ,say, “Never mind, 
mother; I’ll be a man soon, and then I’ll take 
carp of you.” 

Since the totality of my blindness my mind 
has been turned to the remembered talks of my 
mother, regarding mv infancy. The first thing 
she impressed upon me was that I was born with 
a pair of brilliant black eyes, but they seemed 
of little service, as I could not be made- to use 
them. I would sit on the floor with toys in 
my hand which if dropped I failed to discover 
and would cry piteously for help. If put in 
my hands my mind seemed to recognize them 
from a sense pf feeling instead of seeing them. 
This continued for some time until the physicians, 
poor and inefficient as they were in those days, 
had exhausted the long list of experiments. 

Later while groping about, like children always 
prone to do the things they ought not regardless 
of consequences, I was possessed of a desire to 


EARLIEST RECOLLECTIONS 


3 


play with a butcher knife and one day fell, 
inflicting a wound just under my left eye. 

When I went to Clinton in 1846, I transcribed 
the family records from a very old Bible into 
a new one which mothe 1 * gave me. From this I 
gather the following facts, supplemented by 
some she supplied. They throw a strong light 
on this clearly remembered sadness. 

Mv mother’s maiden name was Rebecca Alvira 
Filley. She was born in Hartford, Conn., October 
15th, 1S08. On the 9th day of May, 1824, she was 
married to Mr. William R. K. Ives at French 
Creek. On the 10th of January 1825, Mr. Ives 
was drowned in the river St. Lawrence, opposite 
French Creek. Her child, Jane Ann Ives, was born 
August 7, 1825, and died in Ogdensburg, New 
York, January 7th, aged 16 months. 

She was married to my father. George Deere, 
(who was born in Middleburv. Vermont, in Au¬ 
gust. 1807) at La Prairie, Canada, July 5th 
1826. Her father. Filley, had died, (this she 
supplied), and her mother had married and lost 
a second husband, a Mr. Clark, and lived with 
my mother in Oswego, New York, and (lied 
there the day before mv birth. I was born Sep¬ 
tember 4th, 1827, according to the record. 

Llere is a cluster of marriages, births, and 
deaths sufficient to overshadow the life of any 
young woman, and bequeath a sombre heritage to 
her offspring. Add to this the fact that my father 
shipped as draughtsman in the United States 


4 


GEORGE H. DEERE 


Navy when I was about a year old, leaving his 
family in expectation of half-pay which the 
“circumlocution office” of that department of 
the United States Government held back until 
distress was upon us, and you have ample ex- 
nlanation of this sad woman’s story of struggle 
to carry her children through to self-support, 
without the fact of the semi-blindness of her 
boy at two years of age. But there was faith 
within her, and a strong religious trust, that 
made her equal to the pressure of adverse cir¬ 
cumstances. Fortunately her education was 
sufficient for school teaching; and, that failing, 
her genius and skill with the needle could come 
to the rescue. She would have us say nightly 
before sleeping the Lord’s Prayer; and then, 
“God bless my father, and bring him safe home; 
God bless my mother, and sister, and all my 
friends; God bless my enemies, if I have any,” 
and close with “Now I lay me.” 

I have no very early memories of my father, 
but can recall easily the ideal created by my 
mother’s talk about him. An ideal loved as that 
was loved, must have been begotten by her love. 
I loved him reverently, and longed for him, 
thinking that all good things would come with 
him. 

Official information finally came from Brook¬ 
lyn, New York, that mother must visit that 
city to secure the half-pay so much needed. So, 
leaving my sister with friends in Clockville, 


EARLIEST RECOLLECTIONS 


5 


mother took me, the most helpless, the then long 
jonrney, which I most distinctly remember and 
enjoyed. It was over the Erie canal and down 
the Hudson in the summer, I think, of 1831. 

We were received by the Reynolds family, on 
Jackson street, near York, not far from the 
entrance to the Brooklyn Navy Yard. Mr. 
Reynolds held some sort of command in the Yard, 
and seemed to know all about mother’s business 
and to have charge of it. We remained with 
these good people some months; and mother, 
while waiting, rested on her cunning with the 
needle. Pleasant memories of this large family 
still linger with me as of true and trusted friends. 
Mother’s skill opened to her, and made her wel¬ 
come in, several homes; but this was one to 
which, in the first year, she retreated in emer¬ 
gency. 

The other families who became friends during 
our first three or four years in Brooklyn, were 
those of Peter G. Taylor, Nathaniel Cary, and 
William H. Cary, all living in Brooklyn, and 
doing business in New York. To these must 
be added the name of Mrs. Asenath Nicholson, 
whose home was in New York, of whom I shall 
have more to say further on. Graceful recol¬ 
lection holds these names among its most cher¬ 
ished treasures. 

Through Mrs. Nicholson and some of her 
friends admission was obtained for me into St. 
Luke’s hospital at the upper end of Broadway, 


6 


GEORGE H. DEERE 


in the latter part of 1832. Great confidence was 
felt in the skill of the medical supervision, 
and sanguine hopes were had of my recovery 
if resident under its direct and constant care. 
I was never in an institution in which there was 
more real kindness, or in which I became so 
heartily attached to so many people. Mother 
came every Saturday with lady friends, and I 
remember those Saturdays well, and their 
pleasures, and the toys that kept each memory 
green until covered by a succeeding Saturday’s 
fresh enjoyment. But after over six months’ 
trial, no improvement appearing, I was taken 
away and placed in an eye Infirmary on Elm 
Street, of much repute in those days, grieving 
greatly at the change. The only modification 
of the treatment that I can remember distinctly 
on Elm Street, was the new experience of cup¬ 
ping, which was added to a more generous use 
of blisters, eye washes, and salves. 

All the day walking or playing I was in the 
care of an older boy with a younger who be¬ 
longed to the family having charge of the house. 
Hereon hangs a tale. In the latter part of my 
pastorate in La Crosse, Wisconsin, wife and I 
boarded, in 1868, with Henry C. Heath. He was 
then the leading photographer of that city, and 
a trustee of my parish. 

One day at table in talking of the past I 
chanced to say something of the Elm Street Eye 
Infirmary, and the cupping, when Henry caught 


EARLIEST RECOLLECTIONS 7 

me up, saying, ‘ ‘ Elm Street Eye Infirmary! Why, 
my father was in that! ’Twas there my eye got 
hurt.” I showed him my seared temples, saying, 
“here are the evidences of the cupping.” “My 
father helped the doctors in cupping.” “Can 
you have been the boy,” said I, “that had charge 
of us, with whom I handled the first fire crackers 
I can remember, on a Fourth of July?” “I may 
have been,” he said, but it seems he was not. 

In a letter from Mr. Heath just received, in 
answer to a note asking for his recollection of 
the Infirmary, he writes: “I do not recollect 
having the care of a small boy, as I was so small 
myself. My father’s name was Charles Heath. 
He had no title that I know of. I know he as¬ 
sisted the doctors and could cup as well as they. 
I well remember how the room looked and seeing 
the patients sitting on four sides of the room, 
with a cup on each temple. They looked as 
though they had horns on. I recollect there was a 
long hall on the second floor about ten feet wide, 
and a stove was in the hall. One of the patients 
was poking the coal in the stove. I was stand¬ 
ing behind him; and, as he drew the poker out, 
he hit me between the eyes. They thought I 
would be totally blind, and kept me in a dark 
room.” 

I remember the accident in outline, but not in 
detail. It proved that he was the younger boy 
with me in charge of the older. I, his pastor; he, 
a trustee in my parish, find out this old relation- 


8 


GEORGE H. DEERE 


ship between us in childhood. What strange 
things seem to happen in this world. 

As I wish to note all the principal influences 
tributary to the main current of my life, I must 
not neglect to recognize the truth contained in 
a well remembered motto current so far back 
in the days of my childhood that I cannot trace 
its origin, or tell how I came by it. It reads 
thus: 

“The good or ill luck of a good or ill life, 

Is the good or ill choice of a good or ill wife.” 

True, it .seems silly to begin to talk about one’s 
wife in connection with one’s affairs when one 
is but four or five years old; and I do not pro¬ 
pose to lay myself open to such a charge. I 
only intend in looking around myself at thut 
age to observe, as far as may be, the beginnings 
of things of interest in after years. In looking 
a short distance eastward of New York towards 
Hartford, Conn., the birthplace of my mother, 
I notice the beautiful old town of Danbury. It 
had a typical New England long street, in this 
instance running nearly due north and south, 
bordered by grand old arching elms, and cut 
midway by a stream, bridged over to let the 
mill turning power go by. Not far from the 
bridge crossing the Kohenzy Brook, as it was 
called, Franklyn Street ran westward up a 
hill looking down southward upon the green 
valley of the stream. On the summit stood a high 
three story house, so conspicuous from all diree- 


EARLIEST RECOLLECTIONS 


9 


tions that the citizens, never failing’ for a nick¬ 
name, fastened the descriptive term ‘ ‘ lighthouse ’ ’ 
npon it. It was standing when I became a resi¬ 
dent of the town in 1848; but all the interest I 
have in it, is the fact that, on the 14th day of 
August, 1833, while I was in the Elm Street Eye 
Infirmary, a child was born in it, the fourth in 
a family of five, and the second daughter. We will 
christen her Louisa and let her grow awhile. 

Mother worked on, now hoping, now despair¬ 
ing; when, in 1833, news came which shut off 
hope. Through naval official channels, she was 
informed that father had died of cholera at New 
Orleans. 

Those were the old slow days when news crept 
in sailing vessels, stage coaches, and on horse¬ 
back ; and I do not know how much earlier than 
the report the event was supposed to have 
occurred. But the event did not accord with 
the report when we heard the truth about it from 
father’s own lips in the later part of 1834. 

As soon as mother could make her arrange¬ 
ments after this sad news, we returned to Clock- 
ville where my sister had been left with our 
friends, Mr. and Mrs. Simons. They were sub¬ 
stantial, honest people, and, having no children 
of their own, were anxious to adopt my sister. 
A blacksmith shop stood next to the house where 
Mr. Simons wielded the tools of his marvelous 
art and made the sparks fly. 

After a few months there, most of which time 


10 


GEORGE H. DEERE 


I spent sitting as a visitor in the school my sisfer 
Jane attended, we continued our course west¬ 
ward to the vicinity of Buffalo. Here we were 
surprised by father’s return as of one risen from 
the dead, and Buffalo became our home for 
awhile. Father had been passed as dead by 
the inspectors, and was so reported; but he 
soon revived, crawled to water, and contrary 
to all medical expectation, saved his life by 
daring to drink freely of it. 

Yes, I loved my father; and when I saw his 
large blue eyes, and put my hands into his soft 
curly brown hair, and heard his rich deep voice, 
and. listened to his stories of the sea and of 
other lands than ours, my admiration magnified 
the ideal. Then what beautiful pictures he 
could draw with his pencil, and paint on canvas 
with his little brushes! How I was charmed 
with the little man-of-war, about four inches 
long, which he cut from a pine block, with its 
port holes, masts, and rigging all complete! Was 
there anything he had not seen? Was there any¬ 
thing I wanted to know that he could not tell me? 
He was all that had been expected and more, and 
his seven-year old boy was drawn close to his 
heart. 

The nearest to ideal childhood days were those 
in Buffalo, New. York, and Erie, Pa., in the 
years 1835 and 1836. We were first lodged at a 
somewhat crowded boarding house kept by a 


EARLIEST RECOLLECTIONS 


11 


family by the name of Pierce, but were soon 
quartered in the happy Quaker family of John 
Murray. Here the home life was at its best, 
and we were strictly in it. How delightful the 
memories of the evening’s fire side! There was 
the venerable sire with his soft voiced wife in 
cap, in the Friend’s regulation dress; Abbie Jane, 
a grown up daughter and companion of my 
mother; John, two or three years older than I; 
and two boys younger. We youngsters would 
dutifully listen to our elders reading and dis¬ 
cussing the news of the day, Pilgrim’s Progress, 
Pollock’s Course of Time, and Young’s Night 
Thoughts, until we wanted something more 
lively, when we would ask to be excused and 
hie to our story-telling corner in the kitchen. 
But I would never leave the room while father 
or mother was talking or reading. How sweet 
the “thee” and “thou” became to me! 

Rathbone was financial king in Buffalo at the 
time. Father was in his employ in a variety of 
work. Portrait painting, theatrical scenery, 
painting on canvas for steamboat wheelhouses, 
and house decoration are the most distinctly 
remembered. I recall the admiration expressed 
for a wheelhouse canvas representing the falls 
of Niagara. In making sketches for this, ac¬ 
cording to the method of the times, mother and 
I accompanied father, our headquarters being 
on Goat Island above the falls. How I wondered 


12 


GEORGE H. DEERE 


at father’s strength as he caught my mother 
falling in a faint, and carried her half way up 
the tower to the top! Happy are the bits of 
memory of strolls through the wooded island. 
Trifles, such as instruction how to catch a bird 
by putting a little salt on its tail, sweet because 
of the breath of love that keeps them alive. 

Home, Sweet Home, Days of Auld Lang Syne, 
Oft in the Stilly Night, and a few other songs, 
ground from a street organ, or heard in the 
twilight from some darkened window in passing, 
can charm the heart into the far past, and 
soften it with the blended voices of father and 
jnother as in the evenings of those happy days. 

But the hard times came on, work slackened, 
and the. migratory spirit of such workers as my 
father moved him to look elsewhere for employ¬ 
ment. Leaving mother with the Murrays, he 
took me up the Lake on a puff, puff, high pressure 
steamer to Erie, Pa. 

Dunkirk on the way has always been vividly 
remembered as the landing at which my boyish 
pride in a ne^Cv suit of clothes was effectually 
cut'down. I wore a fresh snuff colored cap that 
just pleased my fancy. We were on the upper 
deck, watching the people-covered pier as the 
boat puffed up to be tied, when a strong wind 
whisked off the pretty head-gear into the lake. 
Father made a comforting but fruitless effort 
to replace it; and, as the only thing practicable 


EARLIEST RECOLLECTIONS 


U 


under the circumstances, wrapped my head up 
in a silk handkerchief. My earliest recollection 
of Erie is of release at the hotel from the bond¬ 
age of that red silk handkerchief. 


CHAPTER II 

ERIE AS REMEMBERED IN 1867. 

On my way to my home in Shelburne Falls, 
Mass., from La Crosse, Wis., in ’67, where I 
had been preaching for three Sundays as a candi¬ 
date for the pastorate of our church in that 
place, I stopped over for a day, October 16th, 
at Erie, Pa., lodging the night before at this 
same Hotel, and occupying by choice the room 
which was home for some months in the spring 
or summer of 1836. It was, in that old time, 
I think, called the “Eagle Hotel,” and mine host 
was a Mr. Honeywell; hut I was told that it 
had been changed to the “United States,” and 
afterwards to the “American,” which name 
it bore in ’67. But changing name or pro¬ 
prietor could not save it from decay, or demo¬ 
lition before the advance of improvements; and 
I doubt if there is a timber of it standing in this 
year 1900. 

I remembered, that night of the 15th of Oc¬ 
tober, rather than slept. I recalled the arrival 
of my mother as soon as father had obtained 
employment; the daily afternoon rides with 
her for health and pleasure; and many pleasant 
incidents of the hotel life. I recalled particu¬ 
larly a great surprise on a Fourth of July, in 


ERIE AS REMEMBERED IN 1867 15 

the shape of a bow kite, five feet long, repre¬ 
senting the United States flag, which father 
had made for me on the sly at his workshop, 
and raised that noisy morning, a mere speck 
on the sky, which I could not see, though seen 
and admired by a crowd. How long the Mc- 
Cullah boy, son of father’s partner in the car¬ 
riage and ornamental painting business, aided 
me in flying that kite, I do not know; but at 
last, trying it alone, it came to grief. The twine 
slipped from my hands, and it kited off in the 
strong wind to its own destruction, having too 
much liberty. Neither eyes nor wings had I to 
follow it. With the kite came the story of elec¬ 
tricity and Ben Franklin from father, and an 
electric-machine and Leyden jar. The kite went, 
but the lesson remains; and how it has grown! 

Then there were memories of carriage drives 
into the primitive woods twenty-odd miles and 
more southerly from Erie, and westward on the 
lake shore, visiting numuious relatives on my 
father’s side, who were hewing themselves homes 
and fortunes in the Pennsylvania and Ohio wil¬ 
derness. There were more Salisburys than T 
can enumerate from memory, and others whose 
names have escaped me. 

Father would get out and rap at the door of 
a house, and solemnly ask questions. Aft^r a 
while explosions would be heard as mutual 
recognitions would flash into consciousnpss. 
Then a troop of old and young would follow 


16 


GEORGE H. DEERE 


father out to the carriage and mother and I 
would be drawn into the house, often a log house, 
in a glow of welcome. They bore such names 
as Content, Patience, and Temperance; but so 
far as I c^n remember it was always connected 
with Salisbury. I remember a David, my elder 
by two or three years, who visited us a few 
weeks in Erie after we were housekeeping. It 
amused father and mother very much when 
I reported after a walk with him about town 
that his eyes seemed big as saucers. 

I remember well the time father spent in pre¬ 
paring a large box of books and toys to be dis¬ 
tributed in this colony of relatives south and 
west of Erie, especially the pains he took in 
writing the names in the books. 

Father was ingenious in those days with his 
knife and small tools. He made a small work box 
or treasure box, with little brass hinges, lock 
and key, for mother, varnishing and polishing 
it to a fine finish. Several of these were made 
for others at this time. 

Among the well remembered drives out of 
Erie was one westward along the south shore 
to Cleveland, Ohio. There was long waiting 
and some difficulty in getting at the person we 
wanted to see. There was much talk of “Aunt 
Betsy” on the way, and I have learned since 
that it was my father’s sister we had called 
on, leaving a package in which was one <»f 
these boxes, which strangely enough has come 


ERIE AS REMEMBERED IN 1867 


17 


into my possession. “Aunt Betsy/’ as father 
called her, died near the close of the 19th 
century. Uncle John Deere of Moline, Ill., had 
visited her, corresponded with her, and shown 
her all possible kindness; and his daughter, 
Jeannette, was given the box to bring to me. It 
was well worn, hut I could see my father’s work. 

Wednesday morning, October 16th, 1867, I 
rose after a weird night of happy wakefulness 
and in a dreamy state walked out into the small 
common that used to he the center of the bur- 
ough. Facing southward with back toward the 
lake there was the old hotel just off the square to 
the right. In front was the well remembered 
colonnade that formed the portico to a stately 
mansion; and to the left a block of two story 
wooden houses, in their day very handsome. The 
last of these to the left, in the fall and winter 
of ’36 was “our house.” What feelings thrilled 
me as I walked towards it, examining it closely, 
and remembered! It was here David Salisbury 
made his visit. Here father romped and played 
with me for exercise, stopping suddenly when 
through, with “that will do” which made the 
house solemn again. Here he engraved a picture 
of “Old Grimes” printed in the “Erie Ob¬ 
server” with the antiquated doggerel, “Old 
Grimes is dead, that good old soul,” having, I 
suspect, some local application to the times. 
Here he engraved a picture of the Mansion House,, 
then the “first-class” hotel of Erie on the lake; 


3 


18 


GEORGE H. DEERE 


side of the square. Here he engraved the 
map of the State of Pennsylvania. This, if not 
the others, was on typemetal, the thick plate 
for which he cast himself, a fact burned into me 
by an accident caused by my blindness, or care¬ 
lessness, as father probably correctly termed it. 
The mould had. to be carefully prepared with 
a film of lamp black deposited from the flame 
of a smoking lamp. It was a delicate and diffi¬ 
cult process and the mould lay on a table ready 
for the melted metal. At the time I knew the 
location of everything in the house, and could 
go about as well in the dark as in the daylight. 
My danger was in any new arrangement of 
things. Of course in the room where father 
worked I was very shy and careful, but this 
table was not in father’s special sanctum, and 
I was ignorant of' the casting which was not 
common. I was looking with my fingers for 
something on this table, and finding this mould 
was curious to know what it was, and satisfied 
my curiosity by handling, and spoiled it. That 
father was sorely vexed when he discovered 
what had happened is not surprising. Though 
I got off with a sound lecture the incident was 
indelibly recorded in memory. 

: Beside typemetal father engraved on boxwood 
:and copper plate, in preparing which I learned 
To be of use, as I did also in grinding after the 
fold way his fine colors with a mullar. I could 
stand by his side, too, and hand him things as 


ERIE AS REMEMBERED IN 1867 


19 


he called for them in his work. 

But the most important matters. I. recalled 
as I sauntered around the old house were of 
the hooks mother read aloud while father 
worked, and I sat and listened; and of the 
stories father told, and the instruction he gave, 
of which I shall have more to say further on. 

Leaving this charmed spot in the center of the 
old burough I walked that day an old and once 
familiar road eastward to a sort of basin some 
three-quarters of a mile out. 

This basin as I remember it is a space of ten 
or fifteen acres sunk some fifty or seventy-five 
feet in the general level on which Erie was first 
settled. The old road descended more abruptly 
into the basin than nOw. As it descended from 
the west into the northwest corner it passed 
a limekiln on the right, and a story and half 
red cottage at the bottom on the left, which 
backed up against the hill so as to let you into 
the half-story from the ground in the rear, 
though the hill rose above the roof. This red 
cottage became our next home, with a small hill¬ 
side garden which father planted to corn, beans, 
peas, potatoes, and other garden produce, giving 
me the exclusive use of a square yard of ground 
which I devoted to lettuce. It was in the spring 
of ’37. the year beginning the hardest monetary 
dimes for our country of which I have any recol¬ 
lection. The pinch was felt most, as usual, : by 
the laboring mass in the trades, especially in the 


20 


GEORGE H. DEERI. 


trades whose labor could be most easily dis¬ 
pensed with; and as there was no demand for 
father’s work distress came upon us. This had 
dropped us from prosperity in the town to 
struggle in the red cottage in the Basin. I fished 
many a meal from the brook running through 
the basin a few rods in front of our cottage, and 
furnished bait with which father and I caught 
big fish from the lake at the end of the long pier 
in the morning before daylight. I dug additions 
to many a meal of edible wild greens such as 
the young dandelions, by no means the least 
palatable of the world’s commonplace food 
supply; and a proud moment it was when I 
handed mother a York shilling given me by the 
clerk of the Mansion House for the basket of 
fine lettuce I carried from my square yard of 
the garden. And the blackberries for which she 
spent that shilling, with milk from the Polish 
family over the hill by the lake, were delicious. 
The kindness of the McCarthy family, proprie¬ 
tors of the limekiln, who lived over the brook 
on the other side of the basin, brightened those 
dark days. The boys were playmates. Sammy, 
my pet, several years younger, was general]v 
my companion. I made whistles for him from 
the willow, and popguns from the elder, and 
potato pops from goose quills, shingle sailboats 
to sail on the brook, miniature limekilns on the 
hillside, romped with him, told him stories, and 
was ready to defend him from larger boys in 


ERIE AS REMEMBERED IN 1867 


21 


quarrel. These and many other things I remem¬ 
bered as I hunted the ground over that morn¬ 
ing. I thought our old house gone. Remnants 
of the old fence shutting in the garden from 
the street, and the square once all for my own 
use, I found, and located where the peas grew r and 
the corn and potatoes; but where the red cottage 
stood I saw a two-story and a half white house 
It looked strangely like, hut I knew it was not 
the same. In my excitement I leaped the fence, 
climbed, the hill in the rear, and regardless of 
possible spectators, looked under the edge of 
clapboards of the upper story and discovered 
an under coat of red paint, and laughed. The 
old cottage had been raised and badly painted, 
that was all. I was soon in front on the street, 
and mentally dropped the upper story to the 
ground back of the turfed yard with which 
father had taken so much pains, and on which 
I had rolled and groaned on a blanket under 
stress of Morrison’s pills, and took off the coat 
of white paint, and I had the place just as it 
was in the hard summer of ’37. If there was 
anybody looking from within, I must have been 
taken for a lunatic, and thus saved from an in¬ 
terruption. 

Of the McCarthys I had learned that there 
was a Samuel living in a fine house in town. 
Though I had not thought of seeing any that 
had ever known me in Erie the idea of meeting 
my pet Sammy of the old days was too pleasant 


22 


GEORGE H. DEERE 


to be resisted, and I ventured to interview this 
Samuel. Admitted and seated in this rich man’s 
parlor, after a little waiting, a stout, full faced 
gentleman came in and answered to the name. 
His father had charge of the limekiln when he 
was a boy, but he had no remembrance of me, 
nor much of those old days. Possibly his 
mother next door might remember. I left him 
with some such feeling as I imagine a tramp 
might have when curtly denied a crust, or of one 
suspected of being a confidence-man. My heart 
warm with sacred memories was chilled and I 
was more than half minded to go no further 
in quest of any living being associated with a 
past so dear to me. But I marked the cozy little 
cottage of the mother, and took a short walk 
to recover my spirits, and returned and made a 
call. 

Of course I was not recognized; but when I 
gave my name no heartier reception could- have 
been given. Her memory was clear, and her 
kind words about my mother were refreshing. 
I was happy to learn that my Sammy had been 
a good son and had prospered in business, and 
ranked among the wealthiest men in Erie. ITe 
had given his aged and widowed mother an 
independent home near his own. Yet even the 
cordiality of this most excellent woman seemed 
veined with wonderment if the ulterior purpose 


ERIE AS REMEMBERED IN iS;6 


23 


of my visit would not prove to be a request for 
some pecuniary favor from her rich son. 

That I had a wife, and was pastor of a church 
so far away in Massachusetts, and had been so far 
to the west to preach, and was now on my way 
home expecting a call, seemed too much for her to 
think of one she had known as a little sickly boy 
with bad eyes, thirty years before. 

But I must go back and finish up the story of 
that hard ’37. My earliest collection of books 
I remember as made in Erie. In a box I had 
Peter Parley’s writings up to date, a juvenile 
life of Washington, Franklin, and others less 
important, all having been very carefully read 
to me by mother; and, although I only occasion¬ 
ally had sight to read myself, to handle the books 
was a great pleasure, remembering the contents 
as I turned the leaves, and in my small way 
thinking it over and asking questions. My life 
was largely indoor and solitary; and in this 
way I could most contentedly occupy the time. 
I can remember but two playmates in Erie, the 
McCullah boy, and my little Sammy, except 
as father made himself one almost daily in relaxa¬ 
tion. 


CHAPTER III 


IFIROM ERIE TO BROOKLYN. 

Stop Over at Brooklyn—Stop Over at 'Rochester, N. Y. 

Life in Brooklyn—Walk to Newark, N. J.—Residence 

There. 

Times did not improve. No light of hope ap¬ 
peared in any direction. It was finally decided 
that mother should leave me with father and go 
back to Brooklyn, stopping on the way at Clock- 
ville to take up my sister, father and I to hunt 
for work as we followed her. Furniture enough 
was sold to friends to carry her through; and 
father and I, left alone, went into town and 
boarded, while he finished some work before tak¬ 
ing the boat for Buffalo. 

Our stopover at Buffalo proving fruitless we 
followed the watery highway to Rochester. 
Here with a Mr. Miller, father found some en¬ 
graving to do, principally visiting and business 
cards on copper plate. 

A Dr. Munn at that time was popular as an 
oculist in Rochester, and noted for his drastic 
and heroic treatment. His method accorded 
perfectly with father’s notion, which, laconically 
expressed, was, no hurt, no help. He had an 
office, crowded daily, on the lower floor of the 


FROM ERIE TO BROOKL YN 


25 


Arcade, west side, a few doors from the postqffice, 
which occupied the entire north. As soon as we 
found a boarding place I was put under the care 
and treatment of Dr. Munn. 

Memories of Rochester are of idleness chiefly, 
and of daily waitings for my turn in the Doctor’s 
office for scarification, caustic and vitriol appli¬ 
cations, and directions about salves, eye washes 
and doses, mostly emetic. I sauntered about 
the Arcade, and within safe distance on the 
street, listening to the sounds. I gathered the 
news and reported to father and others at work 
in the office. Remarks on the 1£ shin-plasters ” 
in circulation for money furnished much amuse¬ 
ment, and the report of the plunge of the burn¬ 
ing “Caroline” over Niagara Falls created great 
excitement, stopped work, and caused a rush to 
the street for more particulars. There were 
pleasant evening walks with father, and long 
Sunday strolls and talks. The river and Genesee 
Falls are prominent in the memories of these 
rambles. The holes in the rocks in which the 
elevation of Sam Patch was secured when he 
made his last leap, the story of which father told, 
had great fascination for me. But the brightest 
memory is of the kindness of the people with 
whom we boarded, whose name I would gladly 
record could I recall it, for I must have given 
them much trouble with my emetics. There was 
a boy in the Doctor’s office who was a good 
skater whom I envied because of his freedom 


GEORGE H. DEERE 


26 

on the ice, though I enjoyed much of his com¬ 
panionship in the use of a sled father made 
me, which the boy generally managed. A pair 
of skates from father was a useless toy except 
to lend to my companion. Father’s efforts to 
toughen me by outside play were a failure. 

But he gave me an invigorating sleighride that 
winter. We drove in a cutter with a lively horse 
to Warsaw, thirty miles southwest of Rochester, 
to visit a Yates family, relatives of his mother, 
who was a daughter of a Captain Yates of Ver¬ 
mont. I cannot tell how many times I was thrown 
into a snowdrift going and returning, nor how 
long our very pleasant visit was. I can only 
remember that the show was plentiful, and the 
drifts so deep and frequent, and the tipovers so 
common, that rolling and laughing in the snow 
with the buffalo robes became more exhilarating 
than the jingle of the bells and crunching of the 
snow by the runners on the safe, smooth roads. 
I had no fear, for father was a good driver and 
master of a horse. 

The latest event remembered in Rochester is 
the sad termination of the life of a dog, a setter 
father purchased for me that had become a great 
pet. In one of our strolls it was taken with a fit. 
and father stopped its barking, ended its misery, 
and the fear of hydrophobia, and nearly broke 
my heart, by killing it. 

In February, 1838, we continued our slow 
progress towards Brooklyn, searching vainly for 


FROM ERIE TO BROOKL YN 


27 


work in Syracuse, and Albany. In Brooklyn we 
found mother in rooms ready for us and entered 
again the warmth of home life r replenished by 
the addition of my sister to the family circle. 
It seemed as if anything could be endured now 
that we were all together. 

Father found work with a Mr. Smith on 
Middeau Street near Fulton and took part of a 
house in the immediate neighborhood on Cran¬ 
berry Street between Prospect and Henry. We 
had the lower floor of a two-story frame build¬ 
ing with its cellar, and bedroom over the hall. 
A widow with her grown-up daughter and young 
son, devout Methodists, had the upper floor. 
Little Tommy Tryon took the place of Sammy 
McCarthy in my affections. His mother was an 
intelligent, conscientious needle-woman and 
supplied mother with work. Mother held her 
old friends, and with Mrs. Tryon, had all she 
could do. Father taught me to make kites, 
whittle out ships from pine blocks, make ka¬ 
leidoscopes from pieces of looking-glass, cover 
balls made of ravelings of old stockings over 
hearts of rubber from old shoes, and make bird 
cages, castanets, and ball clubs. I did quite a 
business with boys of means in want of such 
playthings; and being ten years old, going on 
eleven, I began to consider the possibility of 
making a living by contrivances of this line of 
work. 

Father puzzled me with the problem of per- 


28 


GEORGE II. DEERE 


petual motion; and I studied a good while over 
a machine to rock cradles to relieve mothers. 
Meanwhile 1 was taking emetics, and Brandreth’s 
pills, for my health, and to recover my sight, 
and playing church a good deal in earnest, with 
my sister and those she could gather. 

Across the way was the Cranberry Street en¬ 
trance to the First Presbyterian Church of 
Brooklyn, Rev. Dr. S. H. Cox, pastor. Here I 
spent my Sundays mostly, in two sessions of the 
Sunday School, and two and often three services 
with preaching. 

I remember a fair just before Christmas at 
which I bought a penny whistle. It had four 
holes' giving command of quite a range of notes. 
I eould blow two or three tunes through with the 
help of the fingers of one hand. Father took the 
hint from the penny whistle, and with a cheap 
rough one with more holes, picked up somewhere 
for a few cents, made a beautiful instrument. It 
had an ivory mouthpiece, which he made, I know 
not how; and, fitted in each finger hole half an 
ivory eyelet such as ladies know in dress; and 
its rough wood was covered with shellac varnish 
and polished as smooth as glass. 

My sister had the bedroom over the hall. I as 
the invalid needing care, had a bed in the room 
with father and mother. They were up after 
Christmas working late nights, talking very low 
that I might not hear. To satisfy my curiosity 
they told me that mother was making the body 


FROM ERI /: 7 O BROOKL YN 


29 


for the head of a wax doll for my sister, and 
dressing it. I was mum as the cat as if a partner 
in the scheme. New Year’s Eve, with Tommy 
Tryon, we hung our stockings in the most con¬ 
venient place for Santa Claus to find, just as 
much in earnest as though we had not been told 
by our elders that Santa Claus was non est. 
They seemed so much interested and talked so 
mysteriously of what might happen in the night 
to the stockings that we oscillated between the 
traditions of childhood and their negations. 
Meanwhile I fell asleep thinking of my sister’s 
wax doll, and of the Santa Claus that I knew 
had lovingly made and dressed it. 

It is not easy for us to realize at the close of 
the nineteenth century how New Year’s day ab¬ 
sorbed all interest in the “Holidays” in Protest¬ 
ant New England and York State sixty years 
ago. Christmas had little or no place in our 
education; and its social and even its religious 
characteristics were passed along and blended 
with those belonging to the opening day of the 
year. The spirit generated by Dickens’ Christ¬ 
mas Carol and other kindred stories must help 
to an understanding of the joy of that New Year’s 
morning as we gathered about the spot, dreams 
of which had been shortened by the breaking 
day. The Tryon family were with our own when 
with glad surprise we saw the overflowing stock¬ 
ings, and each eagerly received the special thing 
he wanted. Father and mother who had earned 


30 


GEORGE H. DEERE 


the right to be happy in onr joy, were both duly 
astonished by some trifle from us, and admitted 
into the congregation when the wax doll was made 
a member of our church, and I helped out the 
choir with my highly prized flageolet. 

My Sunday School teacher, a Mr. Sanger, in 
Dr. Cox’s church, called that New Year’s day, 
as he did on all his class, with a present of a 
book. Innocently I lost his regard by crowding 
him to the wall with questions as he endeavored 
to illustrate the doctrine of the trinity with a 
three leaved clover the next Sunday. I knew 
nothing then of the Unitarian controversy and 
had no suspicion of trouble. I only wanted to 
understand, and asked questions to clear away 
the mists of ignorance. My questions excited 
and vexed him, and he dropped me, leaving me 
in greater darkness than when he began. The 
cause of his anger was more of a mystery than 
even the trinity. He ignored me in the class so 
pointedly that I left and went with the Tryons 
to the Methodist church on Sands Street: Here 
I felt at home. The religious fervor in song and 
prayer just suited me. 

I attended with mother and the Tryons the 
spring revival meetings and became deeply in¬ 
terested. The love of Jesus Christ was the 
spirit that absorbed me in the meetings, and 
commanded all my faculties. I found sympathy 
there for what I believed about Jesus. This 


FROM ERIE TO BROOKE YN 


31 


fanned my faith into a flame. It became an 
ecstasy and carried me to the altar. The old 
theological' scenery was there dimly visible in the 
distance, and though unquestioned, having Jesus 
as the foreground, central figure, it had little 
place in my thought. It was Christ J s personal 
love as a friend that held me. Some one in the 
unseen world cared for, and heard' my prayer 
and would never forsake me. I felt myself in 
a universe of exposure to dangers through which 
he would guide and guard. My childhood’s head 
faith was made alive in my young consciousness 
and I was happy,—happy except when I thought 
of -father, mother, and sister, after an old-fash¬ 
ioned hell-fire sermon. Then I would question 
for hours alone in the night whether I could 
be happy in Heaven, father, or mother, or sister 
dwelling in such fire. Would it not be better to 
share their fate whatever it might be than be in 
Heaven without them? 

Father’s engagement with Mr. Smith on Mid- 
deau Street was for special lines of fine work for 
which there was much demand only in good 
times. This gave him abundance of leisure to 
search New York for something more profitable. 
Night after night he' would come home weary 
and disheartened with walking, and unsuccessful, 
in no way relieved by the close economy we were 
obliged to practice. He was an excellent walker 
and enjoyed wandering among the solitudes of 
nature for refreshment and cheer; but to»walk 


32 


GEORGE H. DEERE 


city pavements under the burden of want in 
search of work, is dreary degeneration of man¬ 
hood. What we should have done that winter 
without mother’s needle,—and, shall I say, my 
knife?—God only knows. 

In the Spring father proposed to extend his 
search to Newark, N. J., and to walk, taking me 
with him. True, I had a couple of setons in the 
back of my neck, which Dr. Hurd, our family 
physician, on York Street, near Fulton, had in¬ 
serted, that needed some care. But as I was 
otherwise in usual health, and a good walker 
also, it was thought the trip might be a benefit. 
Father would take good care of me, carry me 
indeed if I tired. It was a short eight miles 
from Jersey City, and we could come home on the 
boat. The day chosen was beautiful. We started 
in the early morning, walked leisurely, stopping 
where anything was to be seen, ate our lunch 
at noon and rested with only a mile or so further 
to go. By the middle of the afternoon we were 
quartered at Starkweather Hotel, corner of Com¬ 
merce Street, near the new railroad within a 
block of the depot. How well I remember the 
little hall bedroom, and the motherly care Mrs. 
Starkweather gave me! The trip did me good 
notwithstanding the chances taken with the irri¬ 
tating setons. 

Father soon engaged to do the ornamental 
painting in a Mr. Vandeworken’s extensive car¬ 
riage, omnibus, and car manufactory; and, leav- 


FROM ERIE TO BROOKLYN 


33 


mg me at Starkweather’s, returned to Brooklyn 
to bring mother and sister. 

There was comparatively little money in cir¬ 
culation, the workmen accepting orders on stores 
in place of it. Business generally seemed to be 
done by barter, or exchange, and the phrase 
“land poor” was current. 

When we were all together again we boarded 
awhile with the Vandeworkens in a large house 
near the works; and then mother had charge of 
the help as housekeeper during an illness of 
Mrs. Yandeworken; after which we boarded 
with the Starkweathers until we finally went to 
housekeeping on Mulberry Street. When not at 
school I was generally with father. As he worked 
by the piece I could assist him in many ways. 
We were very comfortable until Yandeworken 
failed. Then came trouble again. And now let 
me say something about my education. 


4 


CHAPTER IV 


REGULAR SCHOOLING IN NEWARK. 

HOME SCHOOLING. 

Schools have done something for me, yes, much, 
though little through their ordinary direct meth¬ 
ods. Six months in class, with text-book in 
school room, put me in possession of the contents 
of Daboll’s Arithmetic, Morse’s Geography and 
Atlas, Webster’s Spelling book, and a little of 
Gould’s English Grammar. This was in Newark, 
New Jersey, in the winter of ’38 and ’39. I learned, 
too, to cipher on a slate, write in a copy book, 
with a quill pen; and to keep out of the way of 
rough bo 3 r s at recess and dismission—playing 
tag very carefully, and, now and then, rather 
awkwardly using the bat and ball in the eas}^ 
games of those times. 

A Mr. Wilcox kept the private school on Fair 
Street, between Mulberry and Main. I thought 
it then a somewhat stately building, but as I 
saw it in ’59, a shell of brick, containing nothing 
save the floor, I marveled that so much could 
have occurred in the space occupied by the build¬ 
ing and the grounds. I was evidently just in 
time to see the last of it, before its removal to 
make room for modern improvements. 

Mr. Wilcox, as I remember him, was a culti- 


REGULAR SCHOOLIAG IN NEWARK 35 


vated gentleman of the old school modernized, 
of well proportioned medium stature, a pleasant 
voice, quick and prompt in action, retaining 
the then not unpopular faith in the virtue of 
birch, alternated with ferule, as an educator. I 
enjoyed his opening morning talks to the school, 
the singing and the prayer. He inspired me to 
make the most of myself, though I remember 
thinking how little there was of me to make 
anything of. I had two eyes, but they were of 
little use, and under some sort of treatment all 
the while; a small, feeble physique, narrow 
chested and weak voiced. I was knocked down 
two or three times by some bully of the school, 
though not without strong ones to take my part. 
Once near home a boy shied a stone at me—not 
in malice, but for “fun” — and loosened all 
my front teeth, upper and lower, one upper 
middle coming out. All became firm again, but 
there was a vacancy that gave me much trouble 
in after years. 

The school was a “select,” after a style of 
the day, and there were few in it younger than 
myself. I had worked my way up to the fourth 
•class in Arithmetic near the end of the winter, 
when a misinterpretation of circumstances by 
Mr. Wilcox raised me to the fifth. 

Daboll’s Arithmetic had rules under each 
division with examples worked out for illustra- 


36 


GEORGE H. DEERE 


tion. Then followed questions, with answers 
under the right-hand corner. 

The pupil was expected to sit studiously on 
his bench, with a sort of desk in front contain¬ 
ing his books, papers, pencils, pens, ink, and 
slate. Woe to the boy whom Mr. Wilcox could 
find idling in his seat! Sly as a cat he would 
surprise and capture the culprit, or nestle down 
by the side of one found busy, and help him 
with some happy word. 

I could generally do little with Daboll’s rules, 
but I would study them with the examples as 
best I could, then concentrate on a question, 
analyze it, and work for the answer as recorded 
in the corner. When the answer attained cor¬ 
responded with the one given, I was happy: 
and studied to see how I had found it, and 
whether my way w r as like the rule. Sometimes I 
would find that I had followed the rule, and it 
would become perfectly intelligible. Again I 
would find that my way was different, shorter, 
and better. Mr. Wilcox knew of this, and for 
the time must have forgotten it. 

One day near the close of the term the rather 
long class toed the line, slate in hand, and passed 
work (in answer to new questions, of course^, 
which was rapidly approved. All went swim¬ 
mingly, and all were happy for a time, when 
a question came as a climax of difficulty. Fail¬ 
ures followed all along the line below me. The 
boy above was approved, and I was ordered to 


REGULAR SCHOOLING IN NEWARK 37 

my seat and to remain after school. I went 
with a heavy heart, not knowing my offense. 

As soon as school was dismissed, Mr. Wilcox 
sat down beside me, and asked me to show my 
slate, and explain how I had obtained my ans¬ 
wer, which he acknowledged was right. He 
sat examining my figures a while, after I had 
given my explanation, then said, “George, you 
must pardon me! I thought you must have taken 
your answer from your neighbor’s slate, or that 
he must have given it to you. I was mistaken. 
You have done the work in a shorter way than 
mine. To-morrow you will answer the call to 
the fifth class.” My heart bounded with re¬ 
spect and gratitude to Mr. Wilcox, for he saw 
that I could not have stolen the answer, unable 
as I was to see my neighbor’s slate clearly, much 
less the figures on it, and his frank apology 
overwhelmed me. 

Changes in our family affairs, and the return 
of the periodic blindness that deprived me for 
a season of the use of either eye, ended my regu¬ 
lar school days. Except a few infant schools, 
and two or three of higher grade, in which I had 
been allowed to sit on a bench, a silent hearer, 
this was all the regular schooling I ever had in 
childhood days. 

HOME SCHOOLING. 

My mother, had been a teacher, and had taught 
me the alphabet and to spell and read. She 


38 


GEORGE H. DEERE 


had me memorize much of the Bible, told me its 
stories, taught me to sing hymns, and read to 
me other books. 

My father, who was a painter in oils and 
water colors, and an engraver, often had her 
read aloud to him while at work; at which times 
I was always to sit quietly and make no noise. 

I have never read Cooper’s novels nor Marry- 
at’s, or those of the earlier English school; yet 
I can remember them as she read them. I have 
read something of Bulwer, but remember more 
through her; and much of Walter Scott with 
distinct remembrance of her voice in the long 
ago; and Dickens,—particularly the Pickwick 
Papers,—haunted me with the tones of her voice. 
Cervantes’ Don Quixote laugh at mediaeval 
chivalry, I heard through her lips, though it be¬ 
came more intelligent in after reading. 

Father would tell me stories which I have since 
found in the Arabian Nights; and others which 
have proved to be fragments of mythology and 
history. He called my attention to the songs 
of birds and the voices of the various animals, 
and led me to think they understood each other, 
interesting me so much in them that I would 
save the lives of flies, though puzzled when I 
learned that spiders trapped them in their webs 
for food. 

He was continually pressing me with ques¬ 
tions, why was this? and why that? and calling 
for reasons for things. I had a picture of the 


REGULAR SCHOOLING IN NEWARK 39 

solar system in my mind before I ever saw 
the planets or the stars, a picture painted by 
my father, with thoughts of other peopled worlds 
than our earth. With corks, a nail, and a basin 
of water, he taught me of attraction, cohesive 
and gravitative; and while the sky was veiled 
from me, except sun and moon, made me under¬ 
stand the philosophy of an eclipse with balls, a 
candle, and a string. 

He insisted on prompt obedience, himself as¬ 
suming the responsibility of the act commanded, 
and enforced his will with the rod when thought 
necessary; believing in, and often quoting, the 
proverb: “Spare the rod and spoil the child.’’ 
He would coolly reason with me in case of of¬ 
fense, and make me acknowledge that I ought 
to be whipped, and then generally postpone the 
infliction to the next day that I might reflect 
upon it. I knew that the whipping would come 
with the hour named, without anger, as an edu¬ 
cational necessity. 

I think he was an extremist in this, and with 
the best intention in the world, would use the 
whip to correct the faults of stupidity, laziness, 
and forgetfulness, which are misfortunes, as 
much as dyspepsia or deafness, and not moral 
delinquency. If some form of moral delinquency 
is the cause of these faults, correction should 
be applied to the cause. Yet, I remember two 
instances in which the rod was a success in edu¬ 
cation. Father had spent some years as draughts- 


40 


GEORGE H. DEERE 


man on a man-of-war, and was, of course, famil¬ 
iar with the discipline of the navy. He had 
found that a sailor could turn into his hammock 
and sleep soundly with his mind charged to 
wake at a given hour, and obey the charge 
promptly without call. He had acquired that 
power himself, and determined to develop it in 
me. 

He assigned me a trifling task to be performed 
every morning at four o’clock, till told to stop, 
promising me the strap if found asleep after 
clock stroke. I got the strap that morning as 
promised, and did not like it; and was never 
surprised in position again to receive it. I have 
had the power since, generally trustworthy, to 
set an alarm in my mind that would wake mo 
at any time required. 

My sister, Jane, when eight years old, he tried 
for a week or more to teach to read the time oP 
day from the clock, but talk would not do it. At 
last he stood her on a chair, by the clock on the 
mantle, with the strap in hand; and after half 
an hour of such instruction, she would answer 
the question, ‘‘What time is it?”, before the* 
question was fairly out of mouth. 


CHAPTER V 


PROM NEWARK TO UTICA. 

Death of My Father—Return to Brooklyn—Dr. Willard 
Parker and Granville Sharpe Patison, 510 Broad¬ 
way, New York. 

The hard times of ’37 had not ended in ’40. 
Father’s work failed in Newark, and he was 
obliged to look elsewhere for employment. He 
had a friend of other days in Utica, N. Y., a 
Mr. John Mason who was doing a large business 
in the painting line, to whom he was drawn 
by hope of work. Mother was to take my sister 
and go back to friends in Brooklyn, N. Y., while 
I was to go with father, an arrangement jus¬ 
tified by the circumstances. 

We reached Utica by boat on the then much 
travelled canal some time, I think, in June, 1840: 
and father was employed by Mr. Mason paint¬ 
ing signs and floral window shades. We boarded 
in a family whose name I wish I could recall, 
they were'so kind, and the woman so good and 
motherly to me. They must have been Univer- 
salists; for among the books in the library, 
through which I poked my nose, was the life of 
John Murray, which I read with intense interest. 
I knew nothing of Universalism then, and had 
no clear idea of the theology of the book, but 


42 


GEORGE H. DEERE 


was absorbed by Murray’s story of his life, and 
hopeful religious experience. When in later 
years I learned that this John Murray was the 
root out of which the American Universalist 
church had grown, my emotions, on re-readin-r 
with the better understanding, were peculiar and 
strong, to say the least. 

I was confined to my room near the close of 
August, homesick and ill. Father (to whom I 
never complained), was gone all day except at 
the nooning. I had nothing to do in the solitude 
but roll on the bed thinking and praying. In 
spite of my burning eyes, in desperation I read. 
My faith in God, and His providence, burst into 
flame at the words of Murray. I prayed in keen¬ 
est anguish for the restoration of my sight. 
Was not Jesus risen and alive somewhere in the 
universe? This question was burning in my 
heart. ‘‘While in the flesh on earth”—so ran my 
thought—his word would open the eyes of the 
blind. Has he less power now? He said he 
should have more after he had gone to the Father. 
Consider, 0! Father! All dumb animals have 
sight. The flies about me have wonderful eyes! 
and the birds in the air, and fish in the waters, 
and creeping things on the earth! Thou madest 
them all. Why am I sightless? Canst thou not 
breathe on my eyes and make me see as other 
common creatures do? Canst thou not send 
Jesus to touch them? 0 merciful Jesus! Come 
and heal me!” Not a sound escaped my lips. 


FROM NE WARK TO OTIC A 


43 


yet I do not think the earnestness and agony of 
prayer could be greater than the pleadings that 
surged through my brain. 

At night as I lay with father, my face to the 
wall, silent that he might sleep, the cry would 
hold me in motionless convulsions until slumber 
wrapped me in forgetfulness. 

One morning, after about a week of such ex¬ 
perience, father woke early and lay awhile by 
my side thinking. Then he said, “ George, do 
you think you could find your way to your 
mother, if I put you on the boat for Albany,” 
“Yes, father, I think I could.” “Do you want 
to go?” “Yes, if 3 r ou think it best.” “Can you 
start tomorrow?” “If you say so.” A lengthy 
silence followed. Then he said, “Well, I think 
your mother can take better care of you than 
I can. Pack up your things, and I’ll make the 
arrangements. We will go out together this 
evening and make a few purchases.” 

I felt a new inflow of courage and hope. The 
day was a busy one, the evening full of talk. 
I was fully instructed for the journey to the end, 
with plenty of good counsel, well seasoned with 
fatherly affection. After we retired we talked 
in bed with a freedom unusual on either side 
until we slept in the small hours of the morning. 
Bidding good-by after breakfast to the kind 
friends in the house, father gave me some money, 
and took me to the boat and put me in charge 
of the Captain, who promised to take good care 


44 


GEORGE H. DEERE 


of me and see me safely on the steamer at Al¬ 
bany. 

Father stayed by me until the Captain cried 
“all ready” to the boy on the tow-path. Then 
we parted, neither of us aware that we should 
never on earth see each other again. A short 
siege of typhoid fever soon after ended his life 
at the early age of 37 years. 

I had loved my father, but not without fear. 
He was certainly no ordinary man. Five feet six 
in stature; well proportioned except that his head 
called for a number eight and a half hat, seldom 
if ever found in stock; large, intelligent, blue 
eyes; Roman nose, firm mouth and chin; features 
mobile, expressive of strong, varying emotion; 
sympathetically quick to respond to the appeals 
of suffering; and ever ready to lend a hand, 
and give his last dollar,-—he would have been 
happier, and lived longer, had he been born half 
a century later. Dr. Orville Dewey he often 
quoted as his leader in religious thought, and 
with nature and a book he was happier than in 
the “best society.” He trained me to the daily 
use of Day and Martin, and met my objection 
to its repeated application in rainy weather by 
saying, “The same objection applied to eating 
would save your dinner and supper. How would 
you like that, my boy?” 

RETURN TO BROOKLYN 

I was now alone among strangers on the boat. 


FROM NEIVARK TO UTICA 


•45 


The interest that a boy would naturally have in 
such a journey could not be mine, for my eyes 
were passing through the change that left me 
about half the time in total blindness, sometimes 
more than half, sometimes less. I could only 
huddle in a corner of the cabin and learn what 
I could of my surroundings, and of what was 
going on, through my ears, which were very 
acute. But I could think and pray. I had time 
to consider my situation and prospects. My eyes 
seemed to hold the destiny of my life on earth. 
I had endured about everything from the mal¬ 
practice of regular physicians, and quacks, from 
the time I was two years old. I could remem¬ 
ber nights of anguish from pain in my head and 
eyes as far back as memory would go. 

The earliest incident of my life that I can 
recall today is of an accident that happened 
when I could only stand on my feet by a chair, 
holding by my hands to the edge of the seat. 
I can remember falling, and screaming as water 
was dashed over my face. Mother told me in 
after years what had happened. I had somehow 
got hold of a butcher knife with which I was 
playing, and fell with it, sticking the point to 
the bone under my left eye, just missing the eye. 
I carry the scar, and shall carry it to my grave. 

Calomel had been given me in large quanti¬ 
ties, and rubbed on my gums and behind my 
ears to salivate me; but salivation could not be 
induced. When Morrison’s pills were the fash- 


46 


GEORGE //. DEERE 


ion, I was given No. l’s and No. 2’s in increasing 
doses, according to directions published in a 
book on the subject, until twenty-five pills were 
taken at a time and washed down with cold 
water. Afterward Brandreth’s pills were ad¬ 
ministered in increasing numbers until it was 
a handful and a glass of water each day. The 
taste of water for years after would produce 
nausea. Of emetics I had taken enough to stock 
a modern drug store for all time. 

I had been cupped on the temples, blistered on 
my chest and back, and worn setons in the neck; 
my eyelids had been bled, and burned, washed 
and anointed and there had been talk of laying 
my eyes out on my cheeks, and doing something, 
I know not what. 

Such were the prominent features of the 
background as I looked into the gloom of the 
past. And now what was my condition? Phy¬ 
sicians had said, again and again, that my eyes 
would improve with age. This hope was about 
dead, for they were going from bad to worse. 
Must I come to constant total blindness? Blind 
in the right eye, then as it passed to the left, 
blind in both until it settled in the left, then 
back to the right and midway, blind again in 
both until it settled in the right, and so on, 
back and forth, blindness would pass from one 
to the other. And with whichever eye I could 
see, so very near sighted was I that glasses were 
pronounced useless. The physicians’hope that sight 


FROM NEWARK TO UTICA 47 

would improve with age dying, my only remain¬ 
ing hope was in the Lord. To this hope I clung 
as the only plank that would buoy me. True, 
God seemed not to hear my cry; but the deeper 
and darker my despair the closer I clung. I kept 
clear of the deck, said little even to the kind 
Captain or steward, to others gave only brief 
answers to questions. But on God I rested my 
whole sad weight with a feeling, since voiced by 
Whittier in the tender words, 

“Forgive me if too close I lean 
My human heart on thee.” 

Everything pertaining to earth has an end, 
even a dreary lonely journey of a hopeless hoy 
on a lime boat of the Erie Canal. Late in the 
morning of an August day we reached Albany. 
The Captain, true to his word, conducted me 
safely on board a waiting steamboat; and being 
assured that I would be at home in New York, 
hade me a kindly good-by. 

We did not reach the city until into the evening 
of the following day. Fortunately I had fre¬ 
quently crossed the city in other days, and boldly 
struck out in charge of myself into the not illy 
lighted streets for Fulton Ferry. The shops and 
stores were all closed for the night, drinking 
places and night lunch rooms the only apparent 
exception. I had thought the situation all over 
while coming down the river, and had my plans 
well laid. 


48 


GEORGE H. DEERE 


I could not hunt mother in the night. Those 
were slow days, and we had no time to communi¬ 
cate with her before the journey. I knew where 
to get track of her, but not in the night. So, 
crossing the city, I went to a lodging house near 
the ferry, and waited for the morning. In the 
forenoon of the next day I surprised my mother 
in the home of Peter G. Taylor, a merchant of 
New York, in whose family she had been dress¬ 
maker, tailoress, and general needlewoman, off 
and on for some years. The position was one 
socially much higher in those days than is ordi¬ 
narily indicated by such employment in these 
times. Then any department of domestic life 
might honorably be filled by a social equal of 
the mistress, not distinguished at table or in 
parlor from a member of the family. Such was 
her position in the family of Peter G. Taylor. 

With the advice and encouragement of these 
friends, mother took me the next day to the 
office of Dr. Willard Parker, the distinguished 
surgeon, and lecturer before the College of Physi¬ 
cians and Surgeons of New York, who examined 
me thoroughly, and found the case so peculiar 
that he named a day when I should attend one 
of his lectures, and allow him to use it as an 
illustration. 

The lecture room as I remember it seems to 
have been an amphitheatre. In the arena, or 
small central level, stood a table,.and a few chairs 
occupied by gentlemen. The lower seats near 


FROM NEWARK TO UTICA 


49 


the center were sparsely filled. The Professor 
stood by the end of the table, talking in a con¬ 
versational style, when I was brought in from 
an adjoining room by my mother, and placed 
standing by her side. He seemed familiar with 
the history of the case through mother, and the 
preliminary examination. Gentlemen came up 
and looked me over in a free and easy way, ask¬ 
ing questions and talking to the Professor about 
me. 

Finally mother withdrew with me, and told 
me that I was to go to the office of Dr. Granville 
Sharpe Patison, 510 Broadway, once a day for 
treatment. 


5 


CHAPTER VI 

MRS. ASENATH NICHOLSON. 

Dr. Willard Parker—Dr. Patison and 510 Broadway. 

Loss of Left Eye. 

I must of course live in New York to conven¬ 
iently go daily to 510 Broadway. It seems provi¬ 
dential that we had a friend, and such a friend 
as Mrs. Asenath Nicholson, living in the City, 
keeping the Graham boarding house on Beekman 
Street not far from the city park. Our rela¬ 
tions to her home, as long ago as 1831, had been 
the same as to the Taylor family. Then I was 
but four years old, and our stay with her off 
and on until I was seven leaves memories of 
importance in my growth. 

To see the bearings of childhood environment 
on my education and the formation of character, 
the reader should know something of this inter¬ 
esting and noble woman. I think she did more 
than any other person except my mother to 
fasten the image of Christ in all its spiritual 
moral beauty in the central point among the influ¬ 
ential forces acting on my young life. 

This she did, not by didactic instruction, or 
formal advice, or counsel; but through the activi¬ 
ties of her nature manifesting character originat- 


MRS. ASENA TH NICHOLSON 


51 


ing in the personality of Jesus Christ. I do not 
mean the forms of this manifestation. These 
may have been faulty and open to just criti¬ 
cism. But I mean the inner motive, and truth of 
spirit. This is what tells. This is life influence, 
stronger than any words, or any “this do,” or 
“this think.” A child has an intuitive perception 
of the real in those with whom he comes in touch. 

In 1831-2-3-4, she kept a large and richly fur¬ 
nished house in what was then the most aristo¬ 
cratic part of the city. Sylvester Graham, the 
founder of the vegetarian system of living, I 
remember as one of her boarders. She had 
adopted the reform proposed by him, and was 
calling the elect together around her table to 
enjoy each other’s fellowship and counsels, and 
to talk, sing, and pray for the coming of the 
Kingdom of God, or the higher righteousness. 
The Tappans, I remember, were there, interested 
in the anti-slavery movement; the Fowlers were 
there drawing everybody’s attention to Phrenol¬ 
ogy as the key to the mysteries and secrets of 
human nature, and giving the world, at least, a 
very serviceable mental nomenclature; the Beech¬ 
ers were there on their way to Cincinnati in the 
interests of educational reforms in all directions; 
and others of the same ilk, though none that I 
remember of greater note. Horace Greeley I 
have learned in later years was one of her guests, 
though I have no remembrance of him as there at 
that time. • 


5? GEORGE H. DEERE 

As I recall her home in that early time it was 
a hotbed in which the new social ideas and re¬ 
forms that have since come to flower, and some 
to fruit, were in the green state. The conversa¬ 
tion at table and in the social circle seems in 
memory to have been a blending of the English 
and American styles, the English predominating 
generally, thus securing the mental control of 
table or parlor by the best intellects and talkers. 
All was free and unconstrained; but Mrs. Nichol¬ 
son seems to have had the faculty of managing 
so that the best at any time present was evoked 
from the company. I had ears to hear if not eyes 
to see, and though I could not understand all, 
I could remember much and study over it in 
silence. 

The utmost freedom of speech was invited and 
encouraged, and no subject was tabooed. Re¬ 
fined and intellectual, the good manners of kind 
and reverential hearts created a social atmos¬ 
phere, healthful and invigorating. Early rising 
and retiring were among the urgencies of the 
household, and a walk before breakfast in all 
weathers the practice of not a few. I remember 
shivering in the winter wind with my mother on 
the Battery before sunup. 

Just before the first meal of the day there was 
prayer in the great parlor, scripture reading, 
and sacred song, Mrs. Nicholson presiding at the 
piano generally, and at the altar often. Attend¬ 
ance was optional with the guests, of course. 


MRS. ASENATHNICHOLSON 


53 


The service was repeated in the evening, with 
conversation, and varied music. 

One anxious and heroic day and night I re¬ 
member, when her house was threatened by a 
New York mob as the rendezvous of abolitionists. 
It was in July, 1834. Dr. Samuel Hanson Cox, 
pastor of the Spring Street Presbyterian Church, 
had preached a sermon the Sunday before in 
which he was reported to have declared that 
Jesus Christ was a black man. The mob had 
sacked his church near by, and his house; and 
the signs were ominous that they would add to 
the horrors of the night the sacking of the 
Graham house. I was put to bed, but the house 
was alert all night, and Mrs. Nicholson the coolest 
of the cool. 

Dr. Cox removed to Brooklyn in 1837 and in 
1838 I was in his congregation and Sunday 
School, frequently hearing three sermons, and 
attending two sessions of the school a Sunday. 

Mrs. Nicholson had been wealthy, according 
to the ideas of wealth in those days, and sur¬ 
rounded by a host of friends; but now at the 
time mother sought shelter for me under her roof, 
she was reduced to the doing of most of her own 
work, and the list of her boarders was very lim¬ 
ited. She was descending the grade rapidly to 
what would be called abject poverty—or, as she 
would put it—providence was preparing her for 
her mission to suffering Ireland. 

books written by Mrs. Nicholson, (“Ire- 


54 


GEORGE H. DEERE 


land’s Welcome to the Stranger,” and “Famine 
in Ireland,” both first published in Dublin, and 
afterwards in New York), reveal the character 
of this mission for which she felt that all her 
struggles from abundance to poverty, from social 
distinction to solitude and want, were but pre¬ 
paratory wanderings in the wilderness of the 
world. 

Such was the mistress of the home on Beekman 
Street under whose care mother decided to place 
me while daily receiving treatment at 510 Broad¬ 
way, during the fall of 1841. I had a bed in a 
room over the front parlor. A gentleman boarder 
had a bed in the room with me. I saw him only 
at meals, and when he rose or retired. It was 
a long while before I knew what he was doing, 
capering about the room in the morning in the 
condition that Adam is reported to haye been 
in before he ate the apple. He rubbed and 
thumped himself as if trying to keep warm. I 
asked no questions. Indeed we never exchanged 
many words, though he was very kind to me. 
I never spoke to Mrs. Nicholson about his odd 
behavior before getting into his nice clothes. 
But in thinking later I concluded that he was 
taking an air bath and practicing a species of 
massage, or free gymnastics, or both, which I 
came to regard as a very good thing. Mrs. Nich¬ 
olson’s remarks one day about the action of 
water on the skin in bathing led me to think she 
had him in mind and that her comment was a 


MRS. ASENATH NICHOLSON 


55 


criticism on his practice. He was the only gen¬ 
tleman lodger. There were no women in the 
house except Mrs. Nicholson and an Irish girl. 
The dining room was in the back parlor, shut 
off from the front by folding doors. Beneath 
was a basement under the whole house used as 
kitchen, wash* room, and, among other things, 
sleeping room for Mrs. Nicholson and the girl. 

Remnants of gentility, mahogany tables, hair¬ 
cloth stuffed chairs and sofas, high bedsteads, 
hair mattresses and pillows (feathers were ta¬ 
booed), furnished the house, if not very attract¬ 
ively, yet with antique elegance. Though a little 
somber, it harmonized with my mental condition, 
and its earnest, serious spirit just suited me. 

There were, I should say, about a dozen table 
boarders, all gentlemen of culture and great 
variety of opinion, and some good talkers. The 
social habits of the olden times were preserved, 
and the table talk was sober, spicy, and instruct¬ 
ing. At once I felt at home, and thanked God 
that his providence had given me such congenial 
shelter. 

The table showed no change in the vegetarian 
principles. Milk was the only article that sug¬ 
gested the animal in diet. Dr. Patison had in¬ 
sisted strongly that there must be change in the 
character of my nourishment. Beefsteak or mut¬ 
ton chop, or an equivalent, for breakfast; roast 
beef, or an equivalent, for dinner, with a glass 


56 


GEORGE H. DEERE 


of ale -or porter, were his instructions peremp¬ 
torily laid down. 

Mother did the best she could, and made a com¬ 
promise arrangement that I should go to 
Sweeny’s Coffee house on Fulton Street daily and 
get a meat dinner. As for the use of ale or porter 
that was out of the question; for I was solemnly 
pledged to total abstinence, and could not be per¬ 
suaded to admit this addition to dinner as a medi¬ 
cal necessity. Mother did not urge it, and Mrs. 
Nicholson kindly stood by me in my decision, and 
so strongly that I was safe guarded against all 
doctors. The only prescription that was given me 
to be made up at a drug store was for four 
ounces of Peruvian Syrup, twenty drops to be 
taken before or after each meal. I have always 
thought that this tonic, without alcohol, was pre¬ 
scribed in lieu of ale or porter. 

I went in the early morning with Mrs. Nichol¬ 
son to market and store, basket in hand to carry 
purchases, and had some light work about the 
house. I was encouraged to venture on the street 
in care of myself, and given the utmost liberty. 
The only restraint laid on me was against an 
inborn musical tendency manifested in whirling 
and singing, unconsciously indulged in, greatly 
to her annoyance. She checked it effectually by 
suggesting, to my no little chagrin, that it was the 
sign of a loafer. Her talk was always to the top 
of my intelligence, but seldom out of my reach; 
and in the street, talks with those we met I had 


MRS. ASENATH NICHOLSON 


57 


many a good lesson in charity. I never knew her 
to miss an opportunity, regardless of convention¬ 
alities to instruct, advise, or help another. In 
season and out of season she had a good word, if 
not always agreeable, ready for every one, her 
kind and truthful spirit radiant through all. 

My walks to 510 Broadway were regularly 
taken and the treatment so trifling compared to 
the rough usage of other days that all dread of it 
was gone. Eye washes, and dry applications for 
granulated lids,'and a pill given internally, which 
I was told was very expensive, was the daily 
routine for awhile. Then I was informed by the 
Doctor that he was ready for an operation that 
might need to be repeated several times, which 
was nothing less than the cutting out from the 
sight of each eye of superfluous veins that had 
grown across the pupil. Could I stand it? The 
doctor thought best to have mother present, as it 
might need several to hold me, as the least motion 
at the critical moment might ruin all. I told him 
I would like to have mother present, but did not 
need any one to hold me, as I thought I could 
control myself perfectly. He had his doubts, but 
concluded to try me. 

All things were arranged according to his ideas 
for the next day, with help enough at hand in 
case of need. 

“Now,” said he, “you understand. You will 
be very likely to see the glimmer of my lancet 
as it approaches your eye. I shall cut right int' 


58 


GEORGE H . DEERE 


it; and unless you can hold your eye steady, and 
not look up or down, or to one side or the other, 
but straight ahead without wincing, I shall have 
to use the helps I have for safety. Can you do it ? 9 r 
“Yes, sir, I think I can.” “Well, you and your 
mother are so confident, we will try it.” In a few 
minutes it was all over, and the operation pro¬ 
nounced a success. Of course, I was unduly praised 
for my nerve and courage; for I had endured so 
much more that this seemed as nothing. I should 
say that Dr. Parker who had his office on the next 
block above was present and performed the opera¬ 
tion. 

After this operation, attendance at 510 Broad¬ 
way was required less frequently; and mother 
took rooms for housekeeping in Brooklyn on Pearl 
Street just below York, and sister Jane and myself 
had a home of our own with her. The Taylor 
family manifested great interest in pur estab¬ 
lishment, and were ever ready with some kind 
word of encouragement. The days were the most 
hopeful and happy I had ever known. 

Dr. Patison had dismissed me with assurance 
that time, and careful usage, would complete the 
restoration; “and, though near-sighted,” said he, 
“your eyes will become strong, and equal to the 
common needs of life”—a prospect that gave some 
meaning to life other than that of mere existence. 
It seemed as if I had been dragged up from the 
lowest depths of despair to the summit of one of 
Bunj^aiPs delectable mountains. 


MRS. ASENATH NICHOLSON 59 

It was mid-winter and the holidays were just 
passed. I noted improvement in my sight day by 
day. The last of that week in January, 1‘842, in 
which the Doctor had completed the joy of my 
hope, I was sitting in the twilight playing on my 
flute by the kitchen stove. Mother took some¬ 
thing from the oven leaving the oven door open, 
saying, “We are all ready, George.” I laid my 
flute on a table, and stooped to pick up a hand¬ 
kerchief and struck my left and then best eye on 
the sharp corner of the oven door. I knew that 
the point must have passed through to the fluid 
center, and instantly threw my head back with 
the thought, “I will not let it run out.” I crept 
backward to a lounge in the room and stretched 
myself out face upward to retain it. 

To shock mother as little as possible I called 
her quietly, and asked for a basin of water and 
a towel. Then I told her what had happened. “I 
have put out my left eye, but shall not let. it run 
out if I can help it.” I kept my position three 
or four days, with a wet towel over my face. The 
doctor said I had done the best thing possible in 
the case; ‘ ‘ but, ’ ’ said he, ‘ ‘ watch it carefully; and 
if the least sign of inflamation appears, send me 
word and I will come with leeches.” This was 
Dr. Willard Parker. 

The healing was healthy, but it left me with a 
scarred, dead eye. The knife in babyhood had 
missed it, but the corner of a stove oven door 
had got it at last. The right eye kept on its course 


60 


GEORGE H. DEERE 


of improvement, and fulfilled the doctor’s forecast 
that it would strengthen with time, and do its 
own work and the work of the one gone. Yet it 
was midnight over my soul for a while. 


CHAPTER VII 


COMING TO MYSfiL*'. 

David Felt’s School of Work and Study—Into and Out of 

Soul Gloom—Abel C. Thomas and Universalism. 

Conversion to Universalism. 

Hitherto absolutely dependent on the will that 
governed the home, my own strong will, so 
long held in abeyance, began to take possession 
of me. I began to think of what I should do 
on my own account. I was half way into my 
fifteenth year, with . a feeble, narrow chested 
body, nearly ruined by indoor confinement and 
vile drugs which for a dozen years had been 
administered in heroic doses, through nervous 
system and circulation, to reach my eyes. My 
temples were scarred with the bites of leeches, 
and cupping; the back of my neck all covered 
with marks from blisters and setons; eyelashes 
burned off by lunar caustic and blue vitriol; 
one eye sightless, the other weak, drawing 
me so near everything I really wanted to see 
that I could at once see it and smell it. I turned 
my back upon the horrors of the past and looked 
my future in the face. Truly, when I looked 
out on the clashing, struggling world and meas¬ 
ured my unfitness for the conflict, it seemed the 


62 


GEORGE H. DEERE 


best thing for me and for the world could I be 
put out of the way under the sod. My sister, 
a year or so younger, was rugged and healthy. 
My mother, in uncertain health, was toiling with 
the needle to keep us afloat. Father was gone, 
we should never see him more. What could I 
do to help mother? I must do something, but 
what? 

We were still in rooms on Pearl Street where 
I had met with the accident. A short distance 
away, on Front Street, was a brick, four-story 
building, about one hundred feet long on the 
street, and fifty feet deep. It was run as a 
Stationer’s Manufactory, David Felt, proprietor. 
Mr. Felt lived in Brooklyn and had a large store 
in New York, and one in New Orleans, and others 
elsewhere; and here in this building the print¬ 
ing, bookbinding, and other work tributary 
to the stores was done. I had often heard, with 
the discontent of idleness, the hum of its indus¬ 
tries, and longed to be in the midst of it. Could 
I find anything that I could do there? Mother 
would see. Through mutual friends she saw 
Mr. Felt, and it was finally arranged to try 
me in the printing office. 

The printing office and its ware-room occupied 
the whole upper story, the office taking about 
seventy-five of the one hundred feet of space, 
and the ware-room twenty-five. A Mr. Brooks 
was general superintendent of the building, and 


COMING TO MYSELF 


63 


Mr. Charles Peletreau foreman of the printing 
department. 

I think it was on a Monday morning, in April, 
in the year 1842, that with a trembling heart, 
accompanied by my mother, I reported myself 
ready for duty to Mr. Brooks in his office on 
the first floor. The door opened from the street, 
near the front center of the building,, into a 
passage way shut off from a small space on 
your left, where sat Supt. Brooks, ready to 
check the moment of arrival of every one 
employed in the establishment, for all must enter 
through this passage. If you entered the door 
after the heavy bell in the cupola .stopped tolling 
you were docked something from your day, 
of which you would take special notice in the 
amount of money you would receive on Saturday, 
pay day. Mother and I were in early, before 
the crowd. 

I was entered on the roll after a little instruc¬ 
tion in the general rules, and sent to the upper 
story to report to Mr. Peletreau, who asked 
me a few questions, then told me to be at ease 
and look about a little and he would find some¬ 
thing for me to do. He showed me the place to 
Iiang my coat and hat, where to wash, and other 
things about the premises, and left me at last, 
saying “if you see anything to do, do it.” 

I noticed that the floor was littered with scraps 
of paper as if there had been no sweeping that 
morning. I busied myself gathering up what 


64 


GEORGE H. DEERE 


litter I could see and putting it in the wood 
box near the stairway. Mr. Peletreau came 
along saying, “That’s right, you have made 
sweeping unnecessary this morning. It’s clean 
enough for today. I want you now to learn to 
use the roller at the press.” He then took me 
to my place, and told me all about the roller, 
how to .use it, and how to take care of it, and 
by noon I was pronounced a “tolerable roller 
boy, ’ ’ and went home to dinner quite happy. 

The study of words and sentences was really 
the beginning of my life as drawn from books. 
No one started me in it. I stumbled upon it in 
my hunger for knowledge. I think it was first 
a sentence from Shakespeare, or something 
kindred, that I took into my mind to digest 
while roller boy in the beginning of my work. 
It came to me that words were pictures in some 
cases, and parts of tableaux and scenes full of 
action in others. I clung to this conception, 
and made single words, or sentences that I could 
seize quickly and carry easily in my mind while 
at work, into pictures of things, and of actions, 
and study them while automatically busy; thus 
dividing myself into two parts, a working ma¬ 
chine, and a thinking entity. 

I first examined the words separately, getting 
the pictures like blocks in a child’s puzzle picture; 
then parsing them grammatically, would find their 
relations to each other, and make composite 
tableaux, or a scene of action. Then I would 


COMING TO MYSELF 


(15 


try to find all the forms in which I could express 
the same thought without using any of the 
words in the sentence, or at least the fewest 
possible. Then I would make all the changes 
in the form of the thought that I could com¬ 
mand in language, and find new thoughts that 
stood logically, or suggestively related to it. 
This was microscopic reading; the longest and 
slowest passage through a book, and seldom ever 
made to the end, though loading one with treas¬ 
ure. It was just the sort for me, with such 
e 3 r es, under such circumstances. 

The press was in front of a window. I stood 
between the two on an elevation sufficiently 
raised to put me in command of the roller and 
its uses. I inked the roller by turning a crank 
with the left hand, while I held the handle with 
the right. I ran the roller over the form, and 
waited for the printer to run the bed into the 
press and withdraw it with the impression, and 
put in a fresh blank. This waiting was my 
golden opportunity, a moment of time all my 
own to touch book, pencil or paper. All the 
time was mine for thinking, whatever else I 
might be doing; for the work was mechanical,, 
requiring no thought when once learned, se 
leaving the mind perfectly free. I had a book 
in my pocket, and a place by my side to lay it 
down; and, whatever the book, there was al¬ 
ways a dictionary at hand, which next to the- 
Bible, I valued as my best friend among books. 


66 


GEORGE H. DEERE 


Take some technical word, it matters little 
what, look it up in Webster’s Unabridged, and 
master it. You will find in the definition some 
other word, or reference to some other technical 
term, on the same subject. Look that up, and 
master it, and proceed in the same way with an¬ 
other word found in the last definition, and so 
on, and on. In the course of time you will find 
yourself in possession of more accurate knowl¬ 
edge than many another who has read books 
on the subject you are studying. 

The printer, a Mr. Forbes, objected at first, 
and talked with the foreman, Mr. Peletreau, 
about it; but when he knew what I was doing, 
and that it did not interfere with the work, he 
dropped his objection and favored me. Mr. 
Peletreau became my friend and showed me much 
kindness. He brought me the leaves of an un¬ 
bound book, saying that he would send them 
below and have them bound if I would accept 
them. I was soon possessor of the book and 
master of its contents. It was Olmsted’s -Com¬ 
pendium of Astronomy. 

INTO AND OUT OF SOUL GLOOM—A. C. THOMAS 
AND UN1VERSALI3M—CONVERSION TO 
UNIVERSALISM. 

I have said, “It was midnight over my soul for 
■awhile” after the accident. It seemed as though 
God had not only not heard my prayer for sight, 
but had abandoned me. My cry had been for the 
marvelous touch of the living Christ to restore 


COMING TO MYSELF 


67 


vision instantly. The only instantaneous touch 
that had come to me had extinguished my best eye. 
Faith could not breathe in the mental chaos that 
ensued, and withdrew. Thomas Paine’s “Age of 
Reason” fell into my hands among the first books 
I read; but it left the personality of Jesus intact, 
a foundation of the real on which faith could 
stand. Nor did it break my intellectual convic¬ 
tion of the existence of God, on of the immortal¬ 
ity of the soul; though it set me looking for the 
evidences. 

I studied Paley’s “Horae Paulinae,” Watt’s 
“Logic,” Lock’s “Conduct of the Understand¬ 
ing,” Bacon’s “Novum Organum, ” Newton’s 
“Principia,’’.some Latin, a little Greek, Algebra, 
Geometery, and outlines of the higher mathema¬ 
tics. My study of the sciences was a boyish en¬ 
thusiasm over each in turn. I expected to be able 
to learn, not merely what was known, but all I 
wanted to know, and was .sobered to sadness as 
the vast dark unknown loomed up in the back¬ 
ground of the known. 

For reading, Thomas Dick’s works were favor¬ 
ites, and Andrew and George Combe, a, pow¬ 
erful influence on my thinking; as was also the 
publications of Fowler and Wells, and the New 
York.Tribune office; while the study of Paley’s 
'Horae Paulinae.” held my faith in historic 
Christianity, I read a good Meal of history, incit¬ 
ed .thereto^and greatlv helped, b.Y, Walter Scott, 
a nd Shakespeare, and biographical works. I took 


68 


GEORGE H . DEERE 


books from the Mechanics’ Library Association, 
and faithfully attended its scientific and histori¬ 
cal lecture courses, not for entertainment, but as a 
student who must give account of what he has 
heard, as in College or University. I did some 
reading evenings, though forbidden, but generally 
heard instead whatever within reach was worth 
learning either in Brooklyn or New York. 

But first of all among the forces shaping my 
destiny in the world, the coming to Brooklyn of 
the Rev. Abel C. Thomas must be counted. 

Mother and I were on probation for member¬ 
ship in the Sands Street Methodist Church when 
we moved from Cranberry Street, Brooklyn, to 
Newark, New Jersey, a change made necessary 
by father’s employment in ’38. Since our return 
as recorded, we three had renewed our attend¬ 
ance at the Sands Street Church, though the idea 
of membership had been dropped. We had moved 
from Pearl to York street, three or four blocks 
from the entrance to the Brooklyn Navy Yard. 

I had such knowledge of Universalists as came 
at that time from the Methodist pulpit, just then 
rather plentifully and vigorously given; and 
earlier from Dr. Cox’s Presbyterian Church on 
Cranberry Street. 

The Rev. Abel C. Thomas had been preaching 
to crowded houses on Adams Street several 
months when reports called my attention. My 
notion of the crowds that Thomas drew together 
on Adams Street was of the bar-room habitues. 


COMING TO MYSELF 


69 


street loafers, and other varieties of the disreput¬ 
able. It brings a blush to one’s cheek to think of 
the ideal Universalists created by'the pulpits of 
that day. 

Mother had accumulated a good deal of interest 
in Mr. Thomas from the things she had heard 
about him; and he was talked up not a little in 
our home, and curiosity grew. 

One Sunday evening, we started for the 
Methodist Church as usual,—only a little late. It 
was nearer to the Adams Street Church than our 
own, and mother suggested that we hear Thomas 
once. I was silent, thinking mother was going 
wrong in her mind; when, at the turn in our 
course necessary if we were to hear Thomas, she 
stopped. “Why, mother, seriously, you Avould not 
go to a Universalist meeting, would you?” “ Yes, 
just once. We are late for our church; this is as 
good a time as any. Come!” starting on the new 
track. I yielded, and we were soon within hear¬ 
ing of the first hymn which was familiar, both 
words and tune. 

The congregation was a surprise. Except that 
it was packed it looked like any other worship¬ 
ping congregation. The scriptures were read 
reverently, and with wonderful emphasis. It was 
the story of the King in judgment. The prayer 
thrilled me, I had never heard a better. The hymn 
before the sermon I knew, and joined in singing 
it. Then came the text, “These shall go away 


70 


GEORGE H. DEERE' 


into everlasting punishment, but the righteous 
into eternal life. ” 

The fundamental proposition laid down by the 
fathers of our church was that the doctrine of 
endless punishment lias no support from the Bible 
when rightly interpreted. This proposition 
Thomas riveted into my mind the first thing in 
that sermon in the face of a passage that seemea 
unequivocally to declare it. This was a surprise, 
and I was seized by the words of Scripture con¬ 
cerning the handling of the word of God deceit¬ 
fully. Endless punishment seemed so plainly 
taught in the simplest and most direct words of 
the Bible that I could think of nothing but craft 
and cunning in an attempt to controvert it on 
scriptural grounds, like some linguistic legerde¬ 
main effort to prove black white, or white black. 
A strong fear of being deceived grew in me. 
Bunyan’s Pilgrim’s Progress had been read into 
me by my mother in an early day, and Pollock’s 
Course of Time, and Young’s Night Thoughts: 
and the latter two had been reread by myself. I 
tried for a time not to hear. Anyone knowing 
Thomas’ power to make his audiences hear, and 
understand, nolens volens, knows how futile must 
have been such an attempt. Then I said I’ll hear 
and remember, and hunt out his fallacies at lei s 
ure. Then I gave keenest attention and became 
receptive, resolving to hold all I could, and ex¬ 
amine it during the week. 

Bible in hand, I gave myself to the study of 


coming to myself 


71 


that sermon to the exclusion of all else until the 
next Sunday evening, saying with fainter and 
fainter inward voice, “I’ll not go again.” The 
study had been to the conclusion, with much fear 
and trembling, that everything was as he had 
represented. I could find no misquotations, or 
misrepresentations of facts. All through the 
morning service at our own church I thought of 
his announcement at the close of his sermon that 
his next by request would be on the “Sin against 
the Holy Ghost.” 

We started for church Sunday evening on time, 
and mother halted at the turning point with the 
question, “Shall we go again? I’d like to hear 
what he has to say on the blasphemy against the 
Holy Ghost.” “So would I.” And we went. So 
it was Sunday after Sunday, the only change be¬ 
ing that the halt was omitted; and our talk about 
what we heard became more free; and the agony 
of doubt diminished; and Thomas’ impassioned 
perorations concerning the triumphs of Christ 
caused our eyes to overflow with tears of joy. 

No one who has not felt the bliss of deliverance 
from the horrors of the general pulpit theology of 
those times, a deliverance accomplished but by 
the reaffirmation of the Gospel of Jesus Christ as 
held by the early church, can be made to realize 
the joy of all, and spiritual ecstacy of some, in the 
old Adams Street meeting house. The fathers of 
our church may well be pardoned for tarrying 


72 


GEORGE H. DEERE 


awhile entranced on the rediscovered Pisgah 
heights of celestial vision. 

Morning and evening and every service over 
which Thomas presided had me as an auditor. I 
was about six months passing through the change, 
experiencing a thorough conversion of “the heart 
through the head,” a favorite phrase used by 
Thomas; and no happier man than I walked the 
streets of Brooklyn. Now I could see the hand of a 
providence that had heard my prayer and led me 
to the center of circumstances that had given me 
health, opportunities for education, a higher re¬ 
ligious outlook, and sight (if not exactly what I 
had asked, yet good enough for my needs). My 
soul was joyous with gratitude. I pitied my 
Methodist friends who grew cold, and thanked 
God for the new. 


CHAPTER VIII 

FROM PRESS TO WAREROOM. 

A Fire—Aim of Life Determined^-New Church—Liter¬ 
ary Association. 

After a year spent between the roller and the 
wareroom, I was given the care and work of the 
wareroom exclusively. This was gain in freedom 
and opportunity, though absorbing more of my 
attention by demanding more care of the work. 
Here everything in the nature of paper to be used 
in printing was kept; here everything printed 
was returned as it came from the press, water-wet 
or dry, ink-wet it always was of course. If ink- 
wet only it was spread on tables to dry; if water- 
wet as well as ink-wet, it was hung in suitable 
separate quantities on swinging bars suspended 
by ropes from the ceiling. 

The room was in area about fifty feet by twen¬ 
ty-five, the fifty feet running from four large win¬ 
dows looking out over roofs of near buildings and 
the East River to the shipping and spires of New 
York City, to four corresponding windows over¬ 
looking Front Street. Against the wall along the 
fifty feet nearest the printing office ran a station¬ 
ary table about four feet wide, broken only by a 
door to the office. Opposite this table, was a 


74 


GEORGE II. DEERE 


blank Avail; facing Avhich, as you stood in the only 
door in the room, you sa\v in the farthest cor¬ 
ner to your right, the heavy smoothing press 
with its great AAdieel, like the spoked wheel of a 
pilot house Avhich might fairly represent it in 
miniature. In the left hand corner, taking about 
a quarter of the space in the room, hung the sus¬ 
pended drying bars. 

Again, fastened to the wall, under the windows 
with the river view, ran a stationary table from 
wall to wall. The most of my time was spent be¬ 
tween the press and this table. 

To my left, a little behind me on the floor as 1 
faced the window, was a stack of AA r ooden boards 
about two feet by three. Behind me, some three 
feet away, stood the big press. On the right on 
the table in front of me was a stack of paste¬ 
boards just a little smaller than the wooden. On 
my left on the table Avas the Avork to be pressed, 
counted and arranged for ready handling. Im¬ 
mediately in front was a clear space. The right 
hand reached for a pasteboard, placing it in the 
space in front; then both hands seized the sheet, 
or sheets, of work and laid it true in its place on 
the pasteboard, then covered it with a pasteboard, 
then work is put on that and covered, and so on 
till a stack of work and pasteboard from three to 
six inches thick is made and put in the press and 
covered Avith a wooden board. This is continued 
until the press is full, or the work all in. 

This operation in time becomes automatic; and 


FROM PRESS TO WARE ROOM 


75 


after a while I excelled all others in rapidity and 
accuracy of placing. I could put work in the 
press in much less time than any one else, and 
while doing it, do some studying and reading as 
well. 

I put an open book under my work on the left, 
caught a word or a sentence and worked on auto¬ 
matically while thinking about it. I knew the 
measure of my work for the day. There was al¬ 
ways about so much to he done. I could take the 
whole day for it, or make time for myself by 
speed. If there was more work than usual I did 
not drop it at stroke of bell to quit at six o’clock. 
My time to stop was when the press was full and 
screwed down, and all cleared up for the night. 
When I could make spare time I offered it to the 
foreman and if he said “I have nothing for you” 
I used it in reading or study as I did all spare 
moments in factory or out. This was known to 
everyone except Mr. Felt. He came through the 
building usually twice a day, forenoon and after¬ 
noon. I could hear his heavy tread as he came up 
the stairs. He would come into my room, look 
around, and sometimes ask a question, or make a 
remark ; but usually whistling in a whisper and 
otherwise silent. 

One day he caught me with a book, under my 
pile of work. He approached as if he had caught 
me stealing. “Why! Why! Why! George! What 
is this! What is this! Let me see that book!” I 
pulled it out and handed it to him. It was a work 


76 


GEORGE H. DEERE 


on Geometry. He stood awhile looking it over, 
then “What are yon doing with this?” “Study¬ 
ing it, sir;” and I made a full confession, ending 
with, “I do not neglect my work.” “Well! Well! 
I must look into this! I’ll see Mr. Peletreau.” 

He went out, and I heard his voice and the fore¬ 
man ’s near the door in subdued conversation for 
a half hour or so. At last I heard him go down 
the stairs. Mr. Peletreau came in saying, “Well. 
George, the old man has found you out. I don’t 
know 'what he will do about it, but I spoke as 
good a word as I could for you.” 

The next morning I trembled inwardly as I 
heard Mr. Felt’s step on the stairs. He did not 
come into my room, but Mr. Peletreau,* as soon as 
he was gone, appeared with a smiling face, say¬ 
ing, “He says you may keep on, but must not let 
the work suffer.” Shortly after, a quarter of < 
dollar was added to my week’s wages. 

These wages, which I passed over to my mother 
every Saturday night, were ridiculously low, and 
friends criticised me for not looking for employ¬ 
ment more lucrative. But it was for me a school. 
The work was healthy and developed me physi¬ 
cally. I was narrow chested when I began, meas¬ 
uring no more around the chest than the waist. 
At the end of the first year the difference was six 
inches. My voice was so feeble I could not make 
myself heard across an ordinary room without 
difficult effort. Within a year, having given some 
attention to its culture, it was full and round, and 


FROM PRESS TO WARE ROOM 77 

with ease equal to any use. My one eye though 
very near-sighted was so much improved, and so 
much better than anything I had ever had that I 
almost forgot that I had but one. 

A FIRE—AIM OF LIFE DETERMINED 

To be nearer my work and other interests we 
had moved back onto Pearl Street, some five 
blocks from our old home. Mrs. Nicholson had 
made us a visit, spending a week with us to put 
her wardrobe in shape for her mission beyond the 
sea. She proposed my accompanying her, but it 
seemed then like a proposition to leave school be¬ 
fore graduation. I was so wrapped up in my 
studies that I did not give it a second thought. I 
begrudged the time given to sleep, and dreaded the 
lapse of consciousness in slumber at night, lest 
I should be unable to recover the lines along 
which I Avas thinking. 

Soon after Mrs. Nicholson’s visit a friend, of 
Newark school days, came to see us. It was 
April 1st, 1844. Some distinguished actor as 
Othello was drawing large crowds to the Park 
Street Theater; and friend Henry was anxious to 
see him, and offered to bear all charges if I would 
go with him. We enjoyed the play very much, 
but it was near midnight when we reached the 
Pearl Street home, or, rather, the spot where we 
had left it. We had heard talk of *a fire as we 
crossed the ferry, but fires were so common that 
it did not draw our attention from thoughts and 


78 


GEORGE H DEERE 


discussion of the play. There was the smell of 
smoke in the air as we approached, but we did 
not take in the situation until we turned a corner 
and met a friend who was on the lookout for 
us. We beheld the empty space, blackened and 
smoky, in which the row of houses had stood, 
while he told us that the fire had taken in the 
one next ours, and there had been only time to 
take my sister, who was ill in bed, out on the 
mattress, when the flames covered all. About 
everything had been burned. We soon found 
mother and sister comfortably housed close by, 
and were grateful for their happy escape from 
the flames without harm other than fright. 

The few dollars laid up in a Savings bank 
were not equal to our wants in refurnishing. 
We must begin, however, and took quarters in 
the same street on the opposite side, a few blocks 
away. 

I met Brother Thomas on the street the day 
after the fire. With a few hearty words of sym¬ 
pathy he pulled a handful of money from his 
pocket and offered it to me. I declined with 
thanks. But members of the congregation re¬ 
furnished our home, and Mr. Thomas called on 
Mr. Felt, and the call brought me a small in¬ 
crease of wages. 

In this new home were spent the most pro¬ 
gressive da^s of my revived and growing life. 
Here began the weekly meetings .of a group of 
five young' men for mutual improvement-. It 


FROM PRESS 10 WARE ROOM 


79 


was while living here that the question of ques¬ 
tions concerning the aim and purpose of my life 
was solemnly met in my soul and determined. 

I saw two paths diverging from the point I had 
reached. Hitherto my whole effort and aim had 
been to grow and become something as a man. 
Now the soul cry was “What shall I do with 
myself?” One way looked like the entrance 
to a labyrinth through which I thought I could 
struggle to wealth. The other a way full of 
shadows and worldly uncertainties luminous 
only with sure light shining from above, the 
only light that had been on my path hitherto. 
It was not a question of the Christian ministry, 
for that seemed barred from consideration by 
my unfitness for it. That looked like the im¬ 
possible. But shall I with singleness of purpose 
consecrate myself to follow Christ with my life, 
and trust the consequences to Him? “Trust in 

the Lord and do good; so shalt thou dwell in 

the land and verily thou shalt be fed,” were 

the words of the sacred Book that held. me. 

No man has ever thrown himself more abso¬ 
lutely and unreservedly into this path than I; 
and this was the culmination of my conversion 
to Universalism, as Thomas would say, “through 
the head.” There was at this time a dull throb¬ 
bing of regret that I had not joined; Mrs. Nich¬ 
olson in her mission. 

NEW CHURCH LITERARY ASSOCIATION 

The agitation of the question- of a new church 


80 


GEORGE H. DEERE 


building soon began; and as the preponderance 
of opinion, stimulated at least by Thomas, was 
in favor of a business block, with an audience 
room over stores, the means were soon in sight 
in the hands of a small stock company organized 
from the congregation, Thomas himself being one 
of the stockholders. The plan was rapidly 
pushed, and the “Brooklyn Tabernacle of the 
Universalist Church,” as Thomas preferred to 
call it, was soon erected of brick on the corner 
of Fulton and Pineapple Streets. The stores, 
of course, were on the first floor, facing Fulton 
Street; and the audience room on the floor above, 
fronting on Pineapple. A separate brick build¬ 
ing adjoining on Pineapple Street held a lecture 
room on the second floor* and a room below in 
which Miss Palmer, a sister of Mrs. Thomas, 
taught a private school. 

Thomas was married while we worshipped 
on Adams Street. I remember his return from a 
short vacation to Brooklyn with his bride, and 
the curiosity of the congregation to get a glimpse 
of her as she entered the church the first Sun¬ 
day. The two came up the left aisle, and every 
neck was craned to see the bride of Abel C. 
Thomas. Hearty and glad was the welcome, 
that waited the close of the service to make 
itself demonstrative. I felt the wave of gener¬ 
ous emotion as they passed the pew at the head 
of which I sat enjoying a good view. They had 
come in early, I suspect, to avoid the crowd. 


FROM PRESS TO WAREROOM 


81 


Miss Palmer, the sister of the minister’s wife, 
took her place as soprano in the quartet that 
led the music in the Brooklyn Tabernacle. She 
had a powerful voice of exceptionally sweet 
melody, and was a great addition to the social 
force of the parish, as was also Mrs. Thomas, 
though domestic cares confined her more closely 
to the home. 

The lecture room on Pineapple Street now 
became the center of interest to me. Here the 
Sunday School met which Gr. L. Demarest came 
every Sunday morning from Williamsburg to 
superintend; and here met on Wednesday even¬ 
ings the Brooklyn Tabernacle Literary Associa¬ 
tion which Thomas organized. Into both of 
these I naturally drifted. In a little room open¬ 
ing out of the lecture room was a library mostly 
of books concerning the denomination, and the 
“faith once delivered to the saints.” The read¬ 
ing of these books was my second step into the 
culture of that'faith. 

The first fact that arrested my attention in 
reading was that my revered Thomas did not 
hold a monopoly of the Universalist ideas. I 
found that there was a goodly company of strong 
men who held, and had contributed largely to, 
these fundamental conceptions of the interpre¬ 
tation of the Bible, and conclusions drawn there¬ 
from, as common stock. 

While there was a conscious and healthy oozing 
away of hero worship, Thomas retained as a 


7 


82 


GEORGE EL DEERE 


propagandist a place second to none in my regard. 
His personality was unique; his sermons in form 
and delivery wholly and unapproachably original. 
His mental grasp, the incomparable force with 
which he projected his ideas into the minds 
of his auditors was startling, and sometimes 
filled you with awe. I have ever been grateful 
to God that he led me within range of his ‘‘Now 
Mark! ’ ’ with which he so often challenged 
attention to some point in his sermons of special 
importance. He may have been narrow, but it 
was the narrowness of a surgical instrument, 
fine and keen edged for specific work, which 
once done is done forever. Besides, his was a 
profoundly religious nature. He was a live 
Quaker, on fire with, great, newly uncovered 
religious truths, and could not be confined within 
the old bounds. And in the controversial litera¬ 
ture there is nothing, in my judgment, to surpass 
in cogency and power his discussion with Pres¬ 
byterian Dr. Ely of Philadelphia. 

The Brooklyn Literary Association was not 
a debating society. A written address or lecture 
was followed by voluntary criticisms or talks. 
Horace Greeley and Rev. E. H. Chapin were 
among the outsiders who addressed us. I had 
never spoken in public nor taken any active part 
in the meetings until near the end of the exist¬ 
ence of the Association, when I \vas nominated 
for secretary, presumably as a reward for .my 
punctuality and close attention to everything 


FROM PRESS TO WAREROOM 


83 


said. My maiden effort before the public was 
amusing, at least to the audience. 

Some one from the outside had delivered a lec¬ 
ture on Astronomy, in which speaking of the 
asteroids, he had represented them as being frag¬ 
ments of a planet which had been struck by a 
comet and broken in pieces. Olmstead’s Com¬ 
pendium of Astronomy was fresh in my mind, 
and I would have pressed the objections furnished 
by Olmstead to the lecturer’s position with ease 
had he and I been alone, or in conversation in 
company. But to stand on my feet before this 
room full of people and speak to him in the 
hearing of them all, was another thing, and to 
me an unknown thing. But the President was 
calling for questions, or remarks, and my head 
was nearly crazed with a crowd of the things- 
called for, and ere long I was up. My question 
was how he could reconcile Olmsted’s account 
of comets with his notion that a comet had 
knocked a planet in pieces? 

1 was up, but how long I could stand was un¬ 
certain; for my knees began to tremble and pains 
to dart through my back, my breathing was diffi- 
cul , and vocal organs beyond control. I ex¬ 
ploded the words “Olmsted” and “comet” and 
dropped into my seat, my young friends titter¬ 
ing quite audibly. It “brought me to.” I was 
angry with myself and on my feet again in less 
than a minute, and made myself understood. 
What answer the lecturer gave,' my poor brain 
was not in condition to photograph. 


CHAPTER IX 

OXJTING TO WILTON AND DANBURY. 

The Five in Meetings for Mutual Improvement—A Dis¬ 
turbed Meeting and a Night Watch With the Dead. 
Thomas Goes and Thayer Comes. 

My one eye improved as Prof. Willard Parker 
had said it would, and the strength of the lost 
one passed into it as he predicted, though the 
near-sightedness continued. In the study of 
optics I had learned the mechanism of the tele¬ 
scope, and made a couple of tubes of heavy paste¬ 
board at Felt’s, one sliding into the other. Into 
these I fastened a large and smaller lens obtained 
from an optician in New York. I can recall the 
thrill of pleasure with which I brought the moon, 
a * ‘ silver bow new bent in heaven, ” or a full round 
orb with its mysterious spots, down to me with 
the poor tool. . “Poor,” I say, yet it was as good, 
probably, as Galileo first turned toward the 
heavens. 

I rose often before daybreak and walked out 
to Greenwood Cemetery, then open country, to 
get a clear horizon, and study the morning stars 
and the sunrise. The joy of those mornings no 
language of mine can express. 

I longed to get out of the city into the open 
country where I could see the hills, the mountains 


OUTING TO WILTON AND DANBURY 85 


and the woods; and when a friend, S. A. St. John, 
proposed to take me on an Antumn visit to his 
grandfather’s at Wilton, Conn., my enthusiasm 
was unbounded. 

St. John’s father had an elegant country home 
on the Sound at Portchester, where we made a 
short call; then we took the stage to Wilton over 
a rough road picturesque with stone fences, Con¬ 
necticut farm houses, hilly woodlands, and run¬ 
ning brooks. Everything charmed me; and the 
pure air, exhilarating ride, and quiet of the unos¬ 
tentatious old home of the St. Johns, gave us a 
night’s sleep that royalty might have envied. 

Next day St. John was for hunting. There was 
a gun for each of us. He hunted and I manfully 
carried a gun. He bagged some game. I brought 
my gun safely home and discharged it for the 
night at a mark fixed on an oak tree a rod away, 
without scarring the bark of the tree. 

Next day we went trouting. He gave me the 
choice places, then caught trout ahead of me, and 
below me, and found plenty where I found none. 
I fed out all my bait, he brought home all the 
fish. Both had a delightful day, and came in 
with a ravenous appetite for the fry. 

The third day St. John went out. and caught 
trout for breakfast, while I finished off the weari¬ 
ness incident to the two days’ sport. After break¬ 
fast we drove over to Danbury and threaded the 
Main Street under the elms. We saw a great 
many people, and among them no doubt, many old 


86 


GEORGE H\ DEERE 


friends and parishioners, though unknown stran¬ 
gers then. We passed a group of school girls, 
evidently at recess, on the corner of Liberty Street. 
I have always said I saw the one christened “Ann 
Louisa” in the Lighthouse eleven years before, 
though she does not remember having seen me. 
She acknowledged, however, that she was in Miss 
Bull’s school in the Autumn of 1844; but thinks 
she was in the illness from which she only escaped 
with her life about that time. Whichever of us is 
right, St. John and I certainly passed the house in 
which she lived on Main Street, where the Univer- 
salist church now stands. 

We returned from this rejuvenating outing to 
the odors and shut-in-ness of the city, redoubling 
the earnestness and determination of effort in 
affairs. 

St. John was a regular visitor at our house. So 
also was Spafford D. McDonald, J. Victor Wilson, 
and James Bogart of Ohio. We five were attend¬ 
ants at the services under Thomas and Thayer; 
and participants in the conference meetings, and 
in the Sunday school work under the Superin¬ 
tendency of G. L. Demarest of Williamsburg, then 
bookkeeper for the Harper Brothers of New York. 
They had added, one Christmas, three books to 
my little collection, Comb’s “Constitution of 
Man,” Roger’s “Pro and Con of Universalism,” 
and “Universalist Book of Reference.” 

We five had met regularly at my home one even¬ 
ing in each week for mutual improvement. Our 


OUTING TO WILTON AND DANBURY 87 

plan was, (and it was faithfully followed), when 
ten minutes had been spent in social prelimi¬ 
naries, to call time. After the call no word could 
be spoken by any one that was not on the chosen 
subject, except to question the pronunciation or 
use of a word, or -questions of Grammar, Logic, or 
fact. Each in turn was once the head and had 
his say; and no other could talk except to him, 
and then only one at a time. When each had had 
his turn the conversation became general. Mother 
and sister had their chance before and after the 
hour set apart, and graced the hour with their 
silent presence as listeners. These evenings were 
very profitable and required much study and read¬ 
ing in preparation. They trained us in the art 
of listening as well as talking. The subjects were 
chosen from history, science and literature. 

A DISTURBED MEETING, AND A NIGHT WATCH 
WITH THE DEAD 

One evening I was very early at a meeting of 
our Association, finding but one person present 
and he a stranger. I was very thirsty and went 
directly to the water tank. The stranger spoke 
to me in a voice of rebuke, asking in what way 
I had violated a law of nature that I must go 
so quickly for water. He declared it unnatural to 
drink water, and that I would not want it if I 
obeyed all natural law. I replied that so long as 
the birds and all animals I knew anything about 
drank water I should regard it as natural and 


88 


GEORGE H. DEERE 


right for me fo do so when thirsty. He began an 
harangue that lasted until the members were all in 
and Thomas appeared. Standing at the little 
desk, Thomas called the meeting to order. All 
were seated except the stranger who remained 
standing and talking. Thomas- insisted on his 
sitting and silence. Still he stood and still he 
talked. Thomas’ sharp and ringing voice com¬ 
manded without effect. Then he dismissed the 
meeting and went out, leaving a little babel be¬ 
hind. The. man was said to have been an atheist 
and an agitator, connected with a paper called 
“The Investigator.” 

Soon after this incident, near the closing days 
of the Literary Association, my faith had its first 
sharp intellectual trial. Some member of the con¬ 
gregation had died. I was one of two whose lot 
it was according to the rules of the Association, 
to watch with the body. Under this rule I had 
already taken my turn in watching with the sick. 
Thomas had given the Literary Association some 
of the functions of a church. My associate, I 
think, was a jeweler on Pulton Street, a very 
agreeable gentleman, bright and well-cultivated. 

We had a small but very pleasant room in 
which to spend the night, with refreshments cov¬ 
ered with immaculate linen for our midnight 
meal. A fire burned in a grate; opposite to which 
a door opened into a large adjoining room, in 
which the remains lay coffined in darkness. 

We talked in low voice of the weather, of 


OUTING TO WILTON AND DANBURY 89 


Thomas and liis last sermon, of the strange visitor 
who broke up the lecture room meeting, of our 
mutual friends, and the general news. The clocks 
of the city tolled out the hours with increasing 
distinctness as the silence of the city grew. Slow 
twelve came at last and we uncovered our repast 
and noiselessly refreshed ourselves. This finished, 
we hovered over the dulled fire and talked of our 
friend in the coffin, and of death and immortality. 
He revealed his lack of faith in personal existence 
after death, and met my arguments in its favor, 
one by one, with objections, until I was silent and 
chilled to the marrow. Then falling back on the 
New Testament doctrine of the eternal life, where 
I thought I was in an impregnable fortress, he 
met me with the freezing suggestion that Jesus 
meant eternal and loving remembrance of us on 
earth. I was but seventeen, and just out of the 
shell of Augustinian theology. My faith writhed 
in his cold grasp and fainted. 

I pleaded, as the day was breaking, that such 
an idea of the future life would not account for 
the reappearance of Jesus, nor could it produce 
the heroism of the Galilean fishermen, nor the 
martyrs of the Christian Church; nor was it suffi¬ 
cient to explain the conversion, and enthusiastic 
self-sacrifice of Paul. But my faith was ill of the 
ague of that night for a while. It was my first 
contact with the Arctic breath of acute intellec- 


90 


GEORGE H. DEERE 


tual unbelief. The after study of that night con¬ 
firmed my discipleship to Jesus Christ. 

THOMAS GOES AND THAYER COMES 

Abel C. Thomas finished his special work, and 
left us for Cincinnati; and candidates for the 
vacant pulpit, and supplies by neighboring clergy¬ 
men were heard, ending in the choice of Thomas * 
Lowell associate, Thos. B. Thayer, as his successor. 
The change was very marked. In the beginning 
I missed the fiery energy. It was not long, how¬ 
ever, before* I felt the euphonious flow of an elo¬ 
quence that made its appeal to finer sensibilities, 
and rolled the vapours away from the spiritual 
vision, and enlarged the mental horizon. 

The Conference Meeting took the place of the 
Literary Association. The heart was directly 
touched, and response challenged. There was 
warmth instead of heat. There was blue sky and 
sunshine in which the smoke of battle floated in 
beautiful silvery b forms when battle was on, and 
battle was on occasionally. You felt yourself 
under the control of a poet who could make music 
in the soul. The religious life was summoned 
into form and utterance by a quickening and re 
fining influence. A winning had taken the place 
of a commanding spirit. 

Beecher was on Cranberry Street, and Thayer 
on the corner of Pineapple and Fulton; and the 
remark was not uncommon that “next to Beecher, 
Thayer was the most gifted clergyman in the 


OUTING TO WILTON AND DANBURY 91 


city, ’ ’ a compliment, I opine, that was not relished 
because of the ‘‘next to Beecher .” 

An anecdote that illustrates a difference 
between the two men, Thayer himself told with no 
little amusement. They met on the ferry boat one 
morning and Thayer in kid gloves says, shaking 
hands, “Excuse my gloves, Mr. Beecher. ” 
Beecher, jerking off his loose buckskin, replied, 
“Certainly, Mr. Thayer, I can’t expect you to 
skin your hand.” 

As good and effective as Mr. Thayer was in 
the pulpit the strength of his singular and special 
soul power was most manifest in the conference 
meetings, and at the Communion table, and at the 
bedside of the sick and the dying. One of many 
incidents that come to mind will serve as an indi¬ 
cation of what I have said. 

A young lady member of a family of culture, 
whose home was an expression of large means, 
and fine intellectual tastes, but void of the home 
altar, and all interest in anything for which the 
altar stands, found her way somehow to our 
church, and to regular attendance at Conference 
meeting. She was suddenly taken sick and lay 
dying, and called for the Rev. T. B. Thayer. 
He was sent for, and entered the home into which 
no light came from above. She confessed to the 
grief-stricken group around her bed the joy that 
had been hers in the services at our church, espe¬ 
cially in the Conference meetings; and asked to 
have sung, after a prayer, a hymn from Thomas 


92 


GEORGE H. DEERE 


Whittemore^s Conference book used at our meet¬ 
ings. The piano was opened below and the hymn 
sung by several voices from a copy book in her 
possession. 

When the music ceased, eternal silence rested 
on the lips of clay; and sobs of bereavement filled 
the air. But that home was not without the Gos¬ 
pel of consolation, brought by the beloved de¬ 
parted ; and it bore fruit. 


CHAPTER X 

EARLY INCLINATION TOWARDS MINISTRY. 

Playing Church—McDonald’s Discovery and Its Conse¬ 
quences—An Impulse Developed Into a Purpose. 
Leave David Felt, and Clerk in Drug Store, Then 
Go to Clinton and am Visited by Friend Spafford D. 
McDonald. 

There was an impulse in me then toward the 
ministry, an old impulse deep buried under 
thoughts of. its absurdit}^ and impossibility with 
my limitations. My favorite play with my sister 
had been a church service with congregation ar¬ 
ranged in chairs holding dolls extemporized from 
towels, shawls, cushions, or anything that could 
be impressed into service, with cats which were 
seldom lacking. My sister, who was a specially 
good singer, was the choir, or leader of a choir of 
companions. I occupied the best imitation of a 
pulpit that could be made of materials at hand, 
and repeated (pretending to read) hymns, and 
scripture lessons; and prayed in earnest, and 
preached little sermons. This smouldering old 
impulse McDonald discovered and uncovered, 
sweeping away objection after objection until he 
reached the embers and blew them into a flame 
with his spirit. As soon as he had my consent to 
make a way for me to go to Clinton, he told my 


94 


GEORGE H. DEERE 


friends and soon brought me word that the way 
was clear. Chief among these friends, of course, 
were Thomas B. Thayer and G. L. Demarest. 

I talked the matter over first with my mother, 
and then with my pastor; and concluded to go to 
Clinton. This, however, was but secondary, only 
the first preparatory step in a purpose, deeper and 
broader, and all comprehensive, of consecrating 
myself to the ministry of Jesus Christ under the 
auspices of the Universalist Church. When this 
impulse sprung to life under the breath of McDon¬ 
ald it took shape in this purpose and absorbed 
into itself my whole being and controlled every¬ 
thing. 

Meanwhile Mr. Felt moved his stationery manu¬ 
factory into New Jersey, retaining a small job 
printing office in New York on Nassau Street near 
Wall, to which Mr. Peletreau, Mr. Forbes and 
myself were transferred. The change broke up 
the school I had made for myself under David 
Felt, and I soon tired of the mere drudgery that 
could not be transmuted into something better, 
and accepted the position of clerk in a drug store 
in Brooklyn for six months without pavr Before 
the six months were half over, I had exchanged 
letters with Dr. Sawyer; mother and sister had 
overhauled my wardrobe, packed my box, and, 
farewells all spoken, I was on my way to Clinton 
over the route reversed so sadly traversed five 
years before from Utica. 

Passing the trip up the Hudson, and along the 


INCLINA TION TO WARDS MIN 1STR Y 95 


Erie Canal to Utica, and the nine mile stage ride 
to Clinton, we come to the substantial three story 
stone building in the midst of its gently sloping 
campus partly hiding the knoll in the rear. This 
was to be my home and school for such time as 
means would allow, with some dozen others in 
charge of the Rev. Thos. J. Sawyer, then late of 
New York. . 

It was the last of August, and within a few days 
of the close of my eighteenth year. Very shy, 
with but one eye, and very near-sighted, I was in 
personal appearance an unpromising addition to 
the class aspiring to the unenviable position of 
Universalist clergymen. 

I was dropped with my trunk on the sidewalk 
in front of the institute, and walked up 
the path to the entrance, so familiar to old 
timers, much depressed with homesickness. Dr. 
Sawyer took my hand and spoke a few cheering 
words as he nestled me into my room on the 
second floor. Timothy Elliot, everybody’s friend 
in all temporalities and socialities, seemed to have 
charge of me. 

I learned from Elliot that some students were 
boarding themselves, costing one of them but 
thirty-seven and a half cents a week. If another 
could, why not I? So, with cook stove and small 
outfit bought from a departing student, and sup¬ 
ply of the raw material from the grocer, I set up 
housekeeping at once. My one room had an 
alcove nearly as large as itself opposite the deep- 


96 


GEORGE H. DEERE 


set windows. In this alcove was a bed, cook stove,, 
cupboard, wardrobe, toilet and trunks. My chum, 
Davenport, had not yet (fome. 

The ideal was royal; but the first morning gave 
no time from study for cooking. So, I said, ‘ ‘ This 
time crackers and cheese must do.” It was ditto 
at noon, and ditto at night, and ditto three times 
the next day; and the same for the three days 
following, which brought me up to Saturday on 
crackers and cheese, with good cold water. 

I was hard at work that Saturday, when, just 
after noon, the tap, tap, tap of a caller was heard, 
and Spafford D. McDonald and I were soon 
locked in each others arms. Books and study 
were given a rest the remainder of the day. We 
talked and walked, on the knoll, in the glen, and 
through the streets until one knew as much as 
the other of our doings since parting; then back 
to my room for supper—for must he not taste of 
my cooking? 

He went out for a call on Dr. Sawyer, while I 
kindled the fire in the cook stove for the first 
time and prepared the meal. Crackers and cheese 
would not do now. I would have johnny cake, 
coffee and herring, for I had made a johnny 
once and it was a good one. I intended it should 
be my chief dependence in the bread line while 
boarding myself at school. But this must be 
extra good. I studied over it a while, and, not 
having all the ingredients I wanted, used what 
I had. I took about equal parts of flour and 


IN CLIN A TION TO WARDS MI NISI R Y 97 


corn meal, a generous allowance of salt, and 
mixed with cold water. Then I stirred in some 
chopped dried apples, and, in a well greased pan, 
commited the compound to the tender mercies of 
the warm' oven. It was the first fire, and the 
oven did not work well; but it heated up, and 
the odor with the coffee was appetizing. When 
McDonald came in a little late he found the table 
laid, and we sat down to sport with the johnny 
cake, and finished with crackers and cheese. It 
was my first and last attempt at cooking in Clin¬ 
ton. I was content to stop when I learned that 
the students who boarded themselves so economi¬ 
cally were farmers’ sons of the neighborhood, 
who were mostly supplied from the home kitchen. 

On the street fronting the Institute, a few rods 
from the left hand corner of the campus as you 
passed out, stood a small frame building, in the 
upper chamber of which Dr. Sawyer opened his 
Theological School in the year before my advent. 
Here a family by the name of Gridley furnished 
students wholesome meals at a dollar a week. 
Here, introduced to the bountiful feeding grounds 
by the genial Elliot, McDonald broke his fast 
with me the morning after our fun with the mem¬ 
orable dried apple hardtack. 


8 


CHAPTER XI 


MY CHUM J. E. DAVENPORT. 

C. H. Leonard—Roll of the Class in '46 and ’47—Our 
Daily Routine—Studied Sawyer Sundays and in 
Debates—First Sermon Before the Class—Saw¬ 
yer’s Standing Challenge in Village Paper—Debate 
with a Layman—Social Life in Clinton—Exercise 
and Study—Visit of Whittemore and of Hosea 
Ballou, 2d. 

John E. Davenport, who was to share my room 
soon put in an appearance. He was a kindly 
bachelor several years my senior, from Rev. 
Henry Bacon’s parish, Providence, R. I. He was 
an absorber of literature with fluent speech and 
ready pen and very fond of society. I was intro- 
versive, hedged in by reticence, as trying to my¬ 
self as it was to others, and most at home in soli¬ 
tude. We soon, however, adjusted ourselves to 
each other and our environment. 

About this time came into my little world, 
penetrating as heat and light, a new face and 
voice. Scholarly, with scholarship thoroughly 
ripened; guilelessly insinuating with holy intent, 
'Chas. H. Leonard entered my solitary life. There 
5s a chamber within us where we seem absolutely 
alone with God. This man found his way to the 


MY CHUMJ. E. DAVENPORT 


99 


very threshold of this retreat, and we became 
intimate. 

I will call the roll of the class as I remember 
it: B. F. Bowles, J. D. Cargill, J. E. Davenport, 
C. F. Dodge, Timothy-Elliott, John Lanrie, J. W. 
McMaster, Roswell Partridge, Nelson Snell, J. W. 
Putnam, D. C. Tomlinson, H. R. Walworth, Sam¬ 
uel Ramsey, J. IT. Tuttle, C. R. Moore. There 
were others who were so much talked about that 
it seems as if they were in the class with me, but 
they must have been before or after. 

Our daily routine brought us in touch with the 
Rev. Thos. J. Sawyer, our whole Theological fac¬ 
ulty in one magnificent man. He not only dis¬ 
cussed with us our regular lessons from Horn’s 
Introduction, Butler’s Analogy, Paley’s works, 
Jahn’s Archaeology, Knapp’s Theology, Porter’s 
Homiletics, and others, but he would often read 
his letters to individuals concerning denomina¬ 
tional interests, and articles prepared for the 
press, as if to enlist our energies in behalf of 
our branch of the Christian Church. All matters 
of church polity in the abstract and concrete 
were introduced for instruction. I thought his 
years venerable then, as I remember his standing 
in a close, crowded hall, requesting the opening 
of a window with the remark, “I have been in 
the habit of breathing for the past forty years, 
and have not been able to break myself of it.” 
He was our study not only in the class room, but 
in the pulpit of the little village church on Sun- 


100 


GEORGE H. DEERE 


day, and at other times in the same place, occa¬ 
sionally in debate of Universalism. 

Thos. J. Sawyer was a purist in the use of 
English. The trend of his humor was towards 
irony and sarcasm which ■ displayed themselves 
sharply when dealing with an incorrigible case 
of verbosity. He would analyze a sentence as 
coolly and carefully as a surgeon could perform 
an operation, apparently not minding the blood 
or the pain. He made motions towards his tools 
which were generally in sight, as if to take them 
in hand while listening to my first sermon before 
the class. 

.My text was, “O come let us worship and bow 
down, let us kneel before the Lord our maker. ” 
(Ps. 95:6). It was my first written sermon, 
hastily prepared, and unfinished. Some experi¬ 
ence in extemporaneous speaking in the “Brook¬ 
lyn Literary Association” under A. C. Thomas, 
and in the Conference Meetings under T. B. 
Thayer, had determined me to finish my sermon 
without notes, particularly as it was for that 
method of preaching I was training. 

There was occasional sound of far-off thunder 
while with nose on paper, I read, (I wore no 
glasses then) but, as soon as nose and paper 
parted, and I continued talking, “that will do!” 
came as a clapper. Conscious of frost I congealed 
into silence. 

He quickly apologized for me, pleading the 
truth, that I had had the care and nursing of 


MY CHUM J. E. DA VENDOR T 


101 


my chum, Davenport, day and night for over a 
week. He had been dangerously sick with a 
fever. My next sermon (from the text “The Lord 
is good unto -all, and His tender mercies are over 
all His work”) was written to a finish, with 
special regard for the critical ear of the revered 
giant so restive under the flow of long or super¬ 
fluous words. His appreciative comments at the 
close inspired fresh hope, and courage. 

The papers of the little village contained a 
standing challenge from the reverend Principal 
of the Clinton Library Institute to debate the 
relations of the Scriptures to the doctrines of 
endless punishment, and to Universalism. Ham¬ 
ilton College, on the hill overlooking the town 
must have been theologically disturbed in its 
slumbers by this daring agitator. The silence of 
the college in the face of that academic challenge, 
was a great comfort, as it must have been to 
every one not long escaped from the hot atmos¬ 
phere of the then regnant Orthodoxy. 

Now and then some one on the outside, more 
courageous than wise, imagining himself a David, 
would accept and learn that the Lord was not 
with him. One such I remember, one of two or 
three that winter. He was a layman, a carpenter, 
by trade. Mr. Sawyer asked me to carry a note 
requiring no answer. When I returned and re¬ 
ported that I found the man at work in his shop, 
and that he laid the letter unopened on a shelf 


102 


GEORGE //. DEERE 


and continued his work, Dr. Sawyer’s comment 
was, “He is cool; that speaks well for him.” 

SOCIAL LIFE AT CLINTON — EXERCISE AND 
STUDY—MY CHUM AND C. H. LEONARD. 

Calls were few, visits none. The Barkers, kind 
and friendly, with Dr. Sawyer’s family, and the 
Gridleys, gave me all the glimpses I had into 
Clinton homes. The gifted and genial Mrs. Saw¬ 
yer, of course, drew the students often to the 
Doctor’s house, where the warmth of his social 
influence was felt in the domestic atmosphere. 

I made few acquaintances in the town, or 
among the general students of the Institute; and 
seldom, if ever, took part in the games on the 
campus, my poor eyesight forbidding, and was 
no doubt generally set down as unsocial, if not 
morose. 

My reading and study were done, mostly, on my 
feet, walking in my room, or out of doors; for 
co-action of body and brain was a habit com¬ 
pelled by the circumstances of my previous life, 
and essential to health and success. Bound by a 
solemn vow to touch a certain rusty nail after 
each meal, I walked three times a day, regardless 
of the weather, past the Sawyer’s home and 
across Oriskany Creek, to the corner of the col¬ 
lege grounds, a two mile trip, for exercise and 
study. I sometimes walked over the knoll, back 
and forth; but my favorite study was the beau¬ 
tiful secluded glen near by, where, no one hear- 


MY CHUMJ. E. DAVENPORT 


103 


ing, I could indulge in free gymnastics, and train 
my voice. 

My chum, Davenport, thought I wasted time 
out of doors; hut I often found him nodding over 
his book, tilted back in his chair. He finally saw 
the advantage of my practice, and tried to fol¬ 
low it. 

One day he made me solemnly promise to com¬ 
pel him to go with me for a week on the walk to 
the rusty nail after each meal. It was winter, 
and I was to keep my promise in all weather. The 
first two days were pleasant, and he liked it, 
though reluctant to go out after supper. But the 
weather became rough, the snow fell and drifted. 
He began to beg to be left at home, begged pite¬ 
ously at the last. I was to have no mercy, accord¬ 
ing to-promise, and I had none. He confessed 
himself the better for the exercise, brighter, and 
able to do better work in the class; yet nothing 
could induce him to continue the touch of the 
rusty nail after the week was up. He dropped 
back to his chair by the fire, and resumed his 
nodding. 

Pleasant evenings, chum and I spent together. 
He enjoyed reading aloud, and talking over the 
matter read. Wordsworth and Bryant were his 
favorite authors, with Goldsmith, Tennyson and 
Longfellow. “The Yicar of Wakefield,” then 
new to both of us, except an indistinct memory 
of its reading by my mother to my father, gave 
\v\ great satisfaction. 


104 


GEORGE H. DEERE 


Than C. H. Leonard there was no cleaner man 
in body or soul, nor one better cultivated. He 
had married immediately before entering the 
class, and instead of the honeymoon, had come 
to Clinton alone, to prepare for the ministry. 
She, his ‘‘Phoebe,” heroically continued her voca¬ 
tion as teacher far away. He joined me often in 
my walks and our communion was, indeed, of the 
spirit in truth. Nothing has surprised me in his 
well-known career, all has seemed so natural and 
so fitting. 

Knowing that my defective sight would debar 
much reading in the pulpit, I made it my business 
to train for extemporaneous preaching. In some 
secluded spot I would take my stand among the 
trees and, imagining them to be people, talk to 
them my thought, digested after the fashion of 
my mind. The trees of the “glen” I chose as my 
steadfast congregation. I admitted Leonard one 
day as hearer, he giving “Simplicity” as a theme 
for an off-hand speech, intended I opine, as a 
lesson. I was disturbed not a little in mental 
action by the presence of a live auditor. He gen¬ 
erously encouraged me at the close by clapping. 
I never forgot the lesson. 

THOS. WHITTEMORE AND HOSEA BALLOU, 2D. 

VISIT CLINTON 

I recall two visits and introductions to the 
class, each of a distinguished clergyman of our 
church. • 

Our - class room was on the first floor, the first 


FIRST PUBLIC SERVICE 


105 


room on the right as you entered the main hall. 
It had one large window, opposite the door, com¬ 
manding a view of the front campus, with its 
three broad paths to the street, one straight from 
the doorway, the others diagonal to the corners. 
Our Nestor’s seat was in the corner of the room 
by the window, on the right as you entered the 
door. I can see him as he sat, book on knee, a 
grand, thoughtful, commanding presence. His 
look, when not engaged, was generally out of the 
window on the campus. 

One day late in the week, when the class was 
in session, his gaze swept back from the window 
with a flash. “There, young gentlemen,” he said, 
“if you would see the homeliest man in our church, 
come and look at him.” As we gathered at the 
window he said, “That is Thomas Whittemore.” 
Curiosity satisfied, we were soon back in our 
seats, waiting the knock of the editor of the 
“Trumpet,” and our individual introduction and 
handshake. The following Sunday we heard his 
popular sermon on the Resurrection, I)r. Sawyer 
sitting in the pulpit weeping, as we all did, freely. 

On another day, similar in circumstances, we 
were sitting, deeply interested in our work, when 
our incarnation of ministerial grace and gravity 
sprang from his chair with the abandon of a 
child, and ran out of the door and the building, 
bare headed, down the campus path; and only 
seemed himself as we saw him walking back with 
another visitor, arm in arm. Not a word had he 


106 


GEORGE H. DEERE 


spoken audible to me after he left his chair until 
he came in, radiantly happy, introducing the 
Rev. Hosea Ballou, 2d. “How he loves and re¬ 
veres him!” was the thought of all. 


CHAPTER XII 


first public service 

Some Talk About Extemporaneous Preaching—Sermon 
Souls and Bodies—Saying and Preaching—Preach¬ 
ing and Treading on Words. 

In May, 1847, near the end of what was in¬ 
tended to be my first year in Clinton, Timothy 
Elliott, with characteristic kindness, asked me to 
supply a pulpit in the immediate neighborhood 
just south of town on a Sunday morning, where 
he was to preach in the evening. He accompanied 
me, walking. As a strong mutual liking existed 
between us the companionship in a first public 
sermon was helpful. He consented to take the 
reading and the prayer, and relieve me to con¬ 
centrate on the sermon, which must be without 
notes if I would succeed in the ministry at all. 
I read the hymn before sermon to determine the 
adaptation of voice. My text, chosen for the 
ample ground it gave in which to wander, was 
4 ‘God is love.” 

The effort was a success in this: I kept the 
path to the end, and did not wander. I said the 
things I intended to say, and thanked God in my 
heart that I had been enabled to do so. I was 
satisfied, though not a little troubled that I had 


108 


GEORGE H. DEERE 


not done it better. Some just criticism came to me 
from the hearers, through friend Elliott, but for 
that I cared little. I had held my thoughts 
pretty firmly in mind as arranged, and had ut¬ 
tered them. This was my standard of judgment 
of success, and has been through all my ministry. 
To lose a previously chosen path has always 
thrown me into such distress that, however 
soothed by approving voices, it could not be re¬ 
moved, nor the lash of self-reproof stayed. If 
some better form of expression, some more suit¬ 
able illustration, came while on my feet, it was 
accepted gratefully, and I felt the warmth of 
new life manifesting itself in the delivery. This 
has been no uncommon experience, and should be 
hoped for in extemporaneous speaking, but not 
depended on. 

The point I wish to emphasize will bear an 
ampler statement. ^To lose the main purpose of a 
sermon in extemporaneous preaching, or the 
thoughts which are its framework, or to have 
them so tangle up with collaterals as to be twisted 
and bent out of their natural shape, or exchange 
places with each other so as to lose their intended 
local significance, was always, in my judgment, 
a miscarriage, however much applauded. It will 
happen at times in spite of the most careful pre¬ 
paration, and occasionally as the result of over 
preparation and worry, exhausting vitality. 

A poem, or a stanza of poetry, or a single verse, 
demands the remembrance of an exact form of 


FIRST PUBLIC SERVICE 


109 


words. Such memory of word forms is an inborn 
gift that some have, making it easy for them to 
think out an address in words, and deliver it from 
memory exactly as thought or written. While it 
has been my special study from the beginning to 
put my thought into critically exact form of 
words, the retention of that form in memory for 
use in address or sermon comes as near the impos¬ 
sible as any kind of mental action. Again and 
again an intended apt quotation has been skipped. 
I could see it ahead, as I approached in speaking, 
just where I had laid it; and slip by it, failing 
however short to catch hold of it at the right 
end. The mental action in remembering word 
forms seems to me wholly different from that in 
which clear ideas elect words. In later years I 
have put even the Scripture I wished to quote in 
a manuscript arranged in the order to be used, 
a practice giving great relief from mental strain, 
especially in expository preaching. 

A word represents an idea, we say truly; it 
represents an idea as my body represents me. 
As I am not my body, but a something which my 
body represents to the senses, so an idea is not a 
word, but a something which a word represents. 
A word limits and shuts in an idea just as my 
body limits and shuts me in. 

When you define a word you put its idea, or 
meaning, into a compound form, fixing its limita¬ 
tions. ' This is for the dictionary. When you put 


110 


GEORGE H. DEERE 


the word into a sentence yon limit it again by 
the words with which yon join it. 

Again, you translate into other languages this 
idea, or meaning, and limit it by other words in 
those languages as you did in English. 

And again, in English, or other languages, you 
have two languages, though you do not distin¬ 
guish them as separate languages, but designate 
them as the written and the spoken form of the 
one language, English, or German, or some other. 
But how different are the written or printed char¬ 
acters on paper from the human voice. You are 
educated to find on the paper representatives of 
the sounds of the human voice, and to translate 
one into the other. You listen to the voice and 
translate its meaning as well as you can (and 
always imperfectly) into characters on paper 
that speak to the eye, and you call it written 
language. Again, you translate those characters 
into sound and call it reading. With the voice 
you can render the meaning as it was in the mind 
of the writer, or vary it at will without omitting 
or changing a word, just as you can vary the 
meaning of an author in translating his written 
words from one language to another. 

You will understand from this what I mean 
when I say, as I have often said and not been 
understood, that I have the souls of sermons in 
my head ready for birth in bodies when called 
for. And just as a disciplined mind has, or 
ought to have, the soul of a sermon in him when 


FIRST PUBLIC SERVICE 


111 


he sits down in his study to write, so I stand in 
the pulpit with the chosen soul of a sermon to 
put into exact form while on my feet before the 
people. In other words, the composition of a 
sermon is done in the act of delivery instead of 
in the study with the pen. 

One advantage you have with a written sermon. 
You are sure of your matter, and its proper ex¬ 
pression in words; and are so far independent of 
varying physical conditions, and distracting cir¬ 
cumstances in delivery. You can say your sermon 
whatever your audience, digestion, or the 
weather. If you know your sermon is good in 
matter and form, and that all who listen to the 
reading will be aware of it, your self-respect as a 
preacher will have something to stand upon, 
though you may be conscious that your condition, 
or environment, has reduced you to the necessity 
of saying your sermon instead of preaching it. 
Circumstances that would spoil matter, form and 
manner of an unwritten sermon would only make 
the difference between a sermon said, and a ser¬ 
mon preached. 

Yet the difference between saying and preach¬ 
ing is immense. The preacher thinks his thought 
as well as speaks the words; feels the sentiment 
as well as says it. The action of his brain sends 
the thoughts and varying emotions in waves 
through the ether to the brain of the sympathetic 
condition before the vibrations of the words reach 
the ear through the air. Hence the hearers 


112 


GEORGE H. DEERE 


of real preaching are apt to say “he told me my 
own mind; he put my thoughts, the thoughts that 
I could not express, into language. I like the 
preacher who can tell what I really think. I see 
my own thought now clearly, and understand it. ’ r 

Those who talk thus about a sermon just heard 
show that their minds are “en rapport” with the 
preacher; and that their souls have been listen¬ 
ing to the soul of the preacher; and give evidence 
that he is a preacher, and not a mere sayer of 
words. They have heard him twice. First, his 
thinking through the ether, which seemed their 
own. Second, his words through the air which 
seemed all that came from him. The thought may 
have been old and familiar; yet, if seen clearly in 
his mind while the lips spake the words it seemed 
fresh to the hearers as dewdrops in morning sun, 
or new as the old crescent moon may seem a 
“silver bow new bent in heaven.” 

The written sermon, if you can preach it, gives 
you the supporting certainty of being able to do 
one of two grades of work with it. When in con¬ 
dition, and circumstances are favorable, you can 
preach it; when not, you can at least say it. But 
the extemporaneous sermon must be preached or 
it is a failure. 

The hearer may not judge it a failure, though 
he may not rate it high as a success; for you may 
have filled your alloted time with smooth talk, 
trotting along on words, hoping to catch hold of 
a series of linked ideas that you can preach, as 


FIRST PUBLIC SER VICE 


113 


did some of our noted extemporaneous preachers 
in an early day. When a minister looking back 
at an effort finds in the debris of sentences that 
he has shovelled into the ears of his hearers a few 
good things that he has accidentally said, he 
should feel a shiver of shame that they are there 
accidentally—grateful, and yet ashamed. 

When the people say, as I have heard them say 
of some quite eminent, “we would like a place in 
the basement under our pulpit where we could 
put our minister and set him agoing; and some 
machinery by which we could raise him into the 
pulpit before the congregation at just the right 
time,” they are talking of ministers who have 
usually something they intend to preach, but hop, 
skip and jump from sentence to sentence, like 
skaters on broken ice, until in condition and posi¬ 
tion to do their intended work. T. B. Thayer 
once advised the culture of the ability to tread on 
words, or talk entertainingly and yet say nothing, 
at least nothing that could interfere with the mat¬ 
ter you had to present. He was led to it, by an 
experience of Beecher’s skill in that line the 
night before in New York. It was at a meeting in 
which Beecher had the principal speech to make 
at the opening. The audience was not half in 
when he was called to his feet. He talked for 
half an hour or more while the people were gath¬ 
ering, or “trod on words,” as Thayer phrased it, 
saying nothing. Then, as an apparent continua¬ 
tion of what he had been saying, began his really 


114 


GEORGE H. DEERE 


splendid address. I think Beecher told Thayer 
of his trick on their way home. Now, if this skill 
in treading on words had been all there was of 
Henry Ward Beecher, he never could have become 
Beecher. 

Occasionally, conditions and circumstances are 
such that the extemporizing minister can do noth¬ 
ing better than to go smoothly through the ser¬ 
mon time on words. It is well known that Beecher 
has said that a minister has the right to preach a 
poor sermon now and then. But the truth is, a 
sermon really preached can never be a poor ser¬ 
mon. The time may be filled with lip talk and 
you may be complimentary enough to call it a 
sermon, but in reality the minister has not 
preached at all; and if he is a preacher he knows 
it. Therefore, I say, the extemporaneous sermon 
must be preached, or it is a failure. To which I 
will add that, if it has been preached, it is in¬ 
tenser, and more effective, than a written sermon. 
Yet the written sermon has this advantage; it 
saves you from nothingness when conditions and 
circumstances render it impossible for you to 
pleach. 


CHAPTER XIII 

HOME TO BROOKLYN 

Causes for Not Returning to Clinton—Home With T. 
B. Thayer, K. H. Chapin, T. S. King, A. C. Thom¬ 
as, Otis A. Skinner—A Wedding Divides a Home— 
Study Thayer’s Helps—Monday Rendezvous of the 
Ministers. 

I have said that the ending of the term of 1846-7 
was intended as the close of my first year at 
Clinton; but it proved to be the close of my only 
year. This I did not know until after my return 
to Brooklyn at the end of June, though there 
were some premonitory impressions that Provi¬ 
dence would so determine. 

Just before leaving I received a letter from H. 
R. Walworth, who went to New York a few weeks 
earlier, saddening me with news of the sudden 
death of my friend, J. Victor Wilson, author of 
a book called “Reasons for our hope.” He had 
retired in usual health Tuesday evening, June 
22d, and was found the next morning lying on his 
back, his rigid hand pointing with index finger, 
apparently, at some object above his smiling face. 
Walworth enclosed a letter found on his table 
unfinished addressed to me, dated June 22, 1847. 

That treasured letter is before me. It begins by 


116 


GEORGE H. DEERE 


saying: ‘‘ Two evenings ago, being Sunday even¬ 
ing,! had the gratification of seeing your mother 
and sister at church, and accompanied them from 
meeting to their residence. At their kind solici¬ 
tation I remained to have nearly an hour’s con¬ 
versation with them.” Then, after reporting a 
fond mother’s talk concerning an only son, he 
says of himself, “The fact is, brother George, I 
have now learned by unpleasant experience the 
truth of the proverb respecting the rolling stone 
# # # # an( j i begin to make careful calcula¬ 

tions upon doing in the future somewhat better; 
and am impressed that Providence has decreed 
a happier and more congenial period for the re¬ 
mainder of my existence than I have hitherto 
enjoyed.” 

At Clinton I parted with all associates as though 
we were to meet again in the fall; and was happy 
in anticipation of soon being once more with 
mother, sister and Brooklyn friends, though the 
happiness was spotted like the sun. 

After the joy of the home-coming welcome, a 
new situation had to be considered and plans 
made to fit. The most surprising change was in 
relation to my mother. She was engaged to be 
married to Mr. Jacob G. Day, gentleman of the 
old school, brought up in the old Spring Street 
Presbyterian Church of New York, and a widower 
with a married son. He had spent his best years 
in business with his brothers; the business had 
prospered, and they had become wealthy. They 


HOME TO BROOKLYN 


117 


were manufacturers in iron and steel wares, and 
Jacob G. had been the inventive genius of the 
concern, leaving the business management to his 
brothers. When the company dissolved he was 
thrown out in advanced life almost penniless. 
The controversy over the matter had not yet been 
settled and he had large expectations. The next 
surprise was that my sister had broken her long 
engagement with St. John. 

There were causes growing out of these cir¬ 
cumstances that darkened the prospect of my 
return to Clinton in the fall; and, foreseeing that 
study must be the business of my life, in school 
or out, I lost no time in taking up again such as 
were practicable and already begun. 

In talking the matter over with my pastor, 
Brother Thayer, I was generously offered room 
and board in his family, and such aid in study as 
he could render, for a small sum per week to be 
paid “when my ship came in.” His residence 
was on Myrtle Street near Fulton. It had three 
stories above a well-lighted basement. In the 
front basement was his study, living room and 
dining room, where he received his daily callers. 
On the first floor above were the two large ele¬ 
gantly furnished parlors. On the second floor 
were the family sleeping rooms. On the third 
were rooms corresponding to the second. The 
front room on this upper floor! contained his 
library. In this was a bed assigned to me, and 


118 


GEORGE H. DEERE 


I made my den in it when I wished to be alone,, 
which was most of the time except at meals. 

The family consisted of Mrs. Thayer, the aged 
and most lovable mother; Lydia, his amiable 
niece, whose speech had been made almost unin¬ 
telligible to strangers by the loss of her palate ; 
and Robert, an eight or ten-year-old nephew, with 
an old head, who read the heaviest theological 
books, was very much afraid of hell, and chose 
literature as a profession; and believed that in a 
little while he would be able to write better books 
than Washington Irving. These, with 4 ‘Thomas, ” 
spoken with peculiar affection by the mother, and 
myself,, made up the group that gathered around 
the breakfast table in the early morning and en¬ 
joyed moments of select readings from the book 
of books, and breathings of sweet home prayers. 
I never knew if designed, but noticed that my 
turn came about as often as it would had he 
planned that nominally each should officiate, he 
doing it by proxy for the others, and calling upon 
me to do my own. 

I remember as guests at Thayer’s table E. H. 
Chapin, T. S. King, A. C. Thomas, Day N. Lee, 
Gamaliel Collins, H. B. Soule, James Gallager, 
besides, of course, members of his parish. I am 
tempted to make word pictures of these few who 
in the short time I was there left impressions on 
my mind, but shall only venture a pen stroke or 
two. 

Chapin, who was then preaching in the Murry 



HOME TO BROOKLYN 


119 


Street Church, New York, was a frequent visitor, 
and to me the most welcome. How I did enjoy 
the kindly flow of wit! I knew his rap on the 
basement door, which Thayer usually answered 
in person. Then came the orotund thunder in the 
entry, crossed by Thayer’s laughing treble. He 
entered the living room all subdued, greeting first 
differentially the mother, who was always the 
centre of the home affections. There was never 
a sleepy moment while Chapin was in the house; 
and for Thayer, who often shared his bed in the 
room below me, there was little sleep at night. 
The waves of talk and laughter would give place 
to the regular trombone breathing of the great 
preacher, until I became deaf to all sounds as one 
will even sleeping by the sea. 

Of serious talk between these two there was no 
lack. The humor was but the white caps of the 
waves at play with the winds, possible only be¬ 
tween large-souled friends who know and under¬ 
stand each other thoroughly. Stimulating and 
instructive was their sober conversation; and I 
owe them both a debt of gratitude for sugges¬ 
tions that came to me in “the feast of reason and 
the flow of soul” between them in these seasons 
of relaxation. 

Thomas had freed me from the horrors of the 
mediaeval theology, and my heart was warm with 
gratitude. Thayer had confirmed the conviction 
that there remained essential Christianity, the 
power and wisdom of God unto salvation, and 


120 


GEORGE H. DEERE 


held me from wandering in the wilderness of un¬ 
belief. He builded with one hand, and wielded 
the weapons of defence with the other, and was 
perfectly ambidextrous. He was the right man 
with his constructive method to follow Thomas. 
Chapin with his great human heart was a tremen¬ 
dous battery of life sending its thrills of Christian 
truth through our struggling church, impelling 
it a long way toward the high ground of apostolic 
times where it is intrenching among the armies 
of the cross for the common warfare against evil. 

I was absent when Thomas Starr King was at 
the house. The day following, however, I was 
told of a remark he made to Thayer at the ferry 
which was much enjoyed at the time. The toll 
had been raised to two cents, and as Thayer, a 
little surprised, passed in the pennies at the gate, 
King said soothingly, ‘ ‘ It shocks us to be so sud¬ 
denly transformed into two sensible fellows, does 
it not?” 

A lady called at another time while I was away, 
and asked Thayer to accompany her to a hotel to 
see her sick husband. He had never seen the lady, 
and did not know her, and she evaded skillfully 
his polite hints that she should give her name. 
It was afternoon, and he went with her through 
the crowded streets full of suspicion as he noticed, 
or thought he noticed, a genteel stare at the 
woman as he met and saluted his friends. She 
led him directly to her room, and introduced him 
to the Rev. Abel C. Thomas, who, though under 


HOME TO BROOKLYN 


121 


the weather, was well enough to relish the joke 
most heartily. These two old time companion 
workers in Lowell, Mass., had a gladsome visit; 
hut I missed the pleasure of seeing them together. 

Another valued friend, whose confidence and 
encouragement were of great service to me was 
the earnest and genial Otis A. Skinner, successor 
in Orchard Street, to T. J. Sawyer, and one of 
the best, if not the best, of pastors. I was quite 
often in his conference meetings and met him 
frequently elsewhere, though never that I remem- 
br at Thayer’s. Of him it was said that he never 
forgot a person who had ever sat in his congre¬ 
gation:; and with equal truth it mjght he said 
that none ever lost the image of him who had 
seen him in his pulpit through a service. He was 
always the radiant Christian gentleman whose 
coming your heart would warmly welcome, and 
going would regret. An intelligent lady in New¬ 
ark, N. J., once said that she “would walk a long 
way to church every Sunday just to look at his 
pure, spiritual face, if she could not hear his 
voice.” 

I cannot arrange my Brooklyn memories in the 
exact order of time as I kept no diary in those 
days; but I have the record of a marriage which 
brings me to say, that, at the Sunday evening 
service in the old Brooklyn Tabernacle, October 
24, 1847, the Rev. F. B. Thayer made my mother 
and Jacob G. Day husband and wife. Between 
their residence on - avenue and Myrtle 



122 


GEORGE H. DEERE 


Street my home was now divided; and, as my old 
habit of studying on my feet was kept up, I was at 
one place, or the other, or in Greenwood Ceme¬ 
tery, or somewhere between, most of the time. At 
Thayer’s I was usually in my den upstairs. 

One day Thayer called me down for a talk. 
“George,” said he, “you must change your study 
quarters. I cannot have you off alone upstairs. 
Here is a corner all your own in this living room. 
Bring your books and writing down here where 
the clatter of the house goes on, and I receive my 
company. When you have a home of your own 
you will have no solitude. Your wife will be 
with you with her work; a baby, may be, will be 
on your knee, and two or three children climbing 
over you, company will be coming and going, and 
in the midst of such distractions you will have to 
do your work. I want you to share the confusion 
of the day with me as a part of your education, 
and assist in the entertainment of company.” 

Here was a beneficent order from which there 
was no appeal, and I soon brought myself to place 
in the room with Thayer. Solitude was excluded 
from the house, except from sleeping hours. But 
there was plenty of it out of doors even in the 
crowd of the city; and there was Greenwood and 
other woods near by, where even the silence could 
be broken without disturbing anybody. I was 
odd, I know, but succeeded in adjusting my odd¬ 
ness to environment. Thayer never really under¬ 
stood my method of study, and said as much sev- 


HOME TO BROOKLYN 


123 


eral times. Yet he never lacked faith in me, or 
failed in kindness. 

He once said, ‘‘You are never long still as if 
you were studying, yet you are always ready to 
do anything I ask of you, and prepared to take 
charge of the conference meeting, attend a 
funeral, make an address, or preach a sermon. If 
you fail from any cause it will be from lack of 
confidence in yourself.” He never undertook the 
supervision of my studies, though we often talked 
things over together as subjects. He often read 
letters, and extracts, from other clergymen. I 
recall a phrase from Cousin Hosea Ballou, 2d., 
that impressed him seriously. The reverend man 
wrote, in a disponding passage, “My work seems 
like plowing the sea.” 

Thayer and his parish were an object lesson to 
’me; and I worked out in after life many of the 
suggestions derived from him as a pastor. In 
reorganizing the church in Brattleboro, *Vt., we 
adopted with little change the constitution and 
bylaws, declaration and covenant of the Brooklyn 
First Church as prepared by Thayer; and in every 
church organized, or reorganized under me, more 
or less of his work has been incorporated, and the 
fact that it was his was used to give it currency. 

I supplied, after preaching a morning sermon 
for Thayer at home, a couple of Sundays for the 
Fourth Street parish in New York, while they 
were negotiating with Chapin; and a Sunday for 
W. S. Balch at Bleeker Street; and one or two al 


124 


GEORGE H. DEERE 


Pierpont, and Blauveltville on the Hudson for 
S. C. Bulkeley; and one Sunday at Sing Sing. I 
also visited and took part in the several confer¬ 
ence meetings in New York, and officiated at a 
number of funerals. 

Mondays I was usually studying the ministers 
at their weekly rendezvous, the “Ambassador 
office,” in New York. I say “studying” literally , 
for I did little else. I did not venture much in 
conversation beyond answering questions, satis¬ 
fied if my presence was tolerated as a listener and 
observer. I felt myself but a boy among them, 
and was hit occasionally by some random shot 
exchanged between them in their free and easy, 
careless joking, in which W. S. Balch was most 
conspicuous. I knew, of course, that they were off 
duty indulging themselves for a few moments of 
relaxation in the refreshment of play. But there 
was no play in me. Life was too serious. I could 
enjoy their fun as I would a play on the stage, 
but could take no part in it. I was an enigma, an 
unknown quantity among them. 

I was made uncomfortably conscious that I was 
not understood, one day when Chapin and I. D. 
Williamson, both then comparative strangers to 
me, were present at a large Monday gathering. 
They sat on a bench not far away as I stood by 
a table looking into a book. Williamson, in a 
voice intended to be subdued under the general 
hum and bustle, said, looking towards me, “What 
do you make of that, Deere?” Chapin, from the 


HOME TO BROOKLYN 


125 


bottom of his capacious chest, poured a stream of 
unintelligible words, among which these were 
audible: ‘ ‘ Thayer says he’s no fool—I suspect 

he’s afeard.” It was a comfort to know that I 
was not taken for a fool, and I knew that 
“afeard” was, at worst, only a half truth. It did 
not sting badly, but it stuck. 



CHAPTER XIV 

PRELIMINARY SERVICE IN WALLPACK, 

NEW JERSEY 

Brother Tuttle’s insistence at Clinton that ‘‘the 
way to learn to preach was to preach,” was 
crowding me. I was sufficiently prepared to take 
up this part of my education. Certainly I needed 
more practice before taking a parish. Preaching 
occasionally in New York and Brooklyn and 
vicinity would not give me the freedom of faculty 
I wanted. It seems providential that the predica¬ 
ment into which a Clinton fellow student had 
allowed himself to become entangled should call 
me to the rescue. He had drifted into Sussex 
County, N. J., and settled at Wallpack on the 
Delaware; and made himself a small circuit of 
preaching points, engaging to stand by them for 
a year. He had been preaching a little more than 
half the year when he came to see me in Brooklyn, 
told me he had married the daughter of a well-to- 
do farmer with whom he boarded, and had an 
opportunity to engage in a lucrative business 
some hundred miles down the Delaware river, if 
he would take hold of it at once; but he had con¬ 
tracted to supply two or .three schoolhouses with 
preaching in the neighborhood of his Wallpack 


SEP VICE IN WALL PACK, N. J. 


127 


home, and if I would go up and complete his 
year he knew it would be satisfactory to the 
people, and oblige him very much. He had not 
been getting much pay, but his father-in-law 
would give me my board, and the people would 
give me something. As I was not thinking about 
pay in those days, but a great deal about learning 
to preach, I did not need Brother Thayer’s en¬ 
couragement, “You are young yet, and'can afford 
the time; the experience will do you good.” I 
agreed to go, and be at Wallpack at a given time; 
allowing myself leisure to walk and stop when 
convenient to preach. I bought my friend’s 
pocket Greek Testament, whose tattered remains 
are before me now; had some hand bills printed 
to advertise meetings; got the promise of a per¬ 
sonal letter from my pastor, Thayer, commending 
me as a missionary, said adieu to my friends, and 
parted with prayer from my mother and sister, 
and struck out on my ministerial tramp, which 
nded only when I retired from active work in 
Riverside, California, and was made pastor emeri¬ 
tus by the parish, November 11, 1895. 

My work before ordination in Danbury, Conn., 
October 17, 1849, was truly preparatory training, 
and lacked little of the severity of old-fashioned 
pprenticeship. I kept no diary, and have no 
memory of names of places, and of but few per¬ 
sons. 

As my beginning was to be in the little known 
parts of Northwestern New Jersey, I took the 


128 


GEORGE H. DEERE 


boat to Newark, and spent a day and a night with 
James Gallager, the ablest minister of onr faith 
then in the state, and attended his week-day con¬ 
ference. I gathered what information I could 
concerning the people among whom I was going; 
ascertained the best footpath to Wallpack beyond 
the Blue Mountains, and the best places to 
attempt meetings on the way. Brother Gallager 
sent handbills ahead of me to friends at conven¬ 
ient points to gather the people, and on a bright 
morning in June I started. 

My hand bag contained several copies of 
Thomas Whittemore’s Conference Song Book, a 
small Bible and a few articles of clothing. It was 
before the tramp days of our country, and the pe¬ 
destrian who called at a. house for food or lodg¬ 
ing, if respectable in appearance, was kindly re¬ 
ceived and his offer to pay declined as if a favor 
had been conferred by his calling. Such, at least, 
was my experience on this long tramp to Wall- 
pack. 

At the preaching points I was expected and do 
not remember an audience that did not fill the 
school house, or private room. The conference 
books some one distributed who knew the people, 
and, although two or three times I had to sing the 
first hymn alone, several joined in the second, and 
the closing was full voiced and often enthusias¬ 
tic. I cannot remember how many times I 
preached, nor where. I was something over a week 
on the way, and held service somewhere nearly 


SERVICE IN WALLPACK, N J. 129 

every night; and was happy only while serving 
or asleep, but so sad, so very sad, most of the rest 
of the time. I had seen no one I ever knew since 
parting with Gallager; there was no certainty in 
life before me this side of death; my home center 
was abandoned, and the resolution, never to re¬ 
turn to it as a home was strained like the cable 
of a ship in a heavy sea. I would sit down by the 
wayside, or wander into the woods, moaning as 
I fought with myself, uttering ejaculations of 
prayer. 

I remember the culmination of this ungovern¬ 
able attack of homesickness when I was within a 
couple of miles of my journey’s end. I accident¬ 
ally dropped a pin and walked on, thinking of it 
as brought with me from Brooklyn and lost in the 
dust of the road. I turned, carefully retraced my 
steps, stooped over the spot, and hunted on my 
knees until I found it; then stepped out of the 
road into a piece of woods, and threw myself 
down on the dead leaves and sobbed an earnest 
prayer. I lay extended flat on my face, arms at 
full length, hands clutching through the leaves 
the mould of the woods. In my hand as I drew 
myself together, was a sprig of arbutus in perfect 
bloom. As I sat gazing in surprise at the modest 
beauty I had always so much admired, the words, 
of Jesus came to mind: “Consider the lilies of 
the field.” It was enough. My soul was full of 
music, and from that on there was no backward 
look. 


10 


130 


GEORGE H. DEERE 


1 walked toward the house, humming to my¬ 
self : 

“Must Jesus bear the cross alone, 

And all the world go free? 

No, there’s a cross for every one, 

And there’s a cross for me.” 

As I came within a few rods, a queer sound is¬ 
sued from the angle of a rail fence on my left, a 
kind of muttering gutteral. I stopped and lis¬ 
tened, then slowly approached. There lay a doub- 
led-up creature about the size of a 12-year-old 
child, with skin drawn tightly over human bones. 
Its face was hugging its knees. It did not straight¬ 
en when I spoke to it, but wailed: “I want to go 
home ! I want to go home ! ’ ’ over and over. As 
the house was near, it seemed best to go on and re¬ 
port, for something was wrong. The pathetic cry 
of the mourning dove almost choked me as I 
rapped on the resounding door of the hall. 

There was a little consternation when I an¬ 
nounced myself, and told of the incident by the 
fence. It was the demented grandmother of the 
wife of my fellow-student whose work I had come 
to take up. She had escaped from her airy, com¬ 
fortable quarters in the basement under the din¬ 
ing room of the house, and was quickly brought 
back in the arms of her daughter and replaced 
in safe keeping, wailing low: “I want to go 
home! I want to go home!” the only sentence the 
poor creature had spoken for years. I heard it 


SERVICE IN WALLPACK, N. /. 


131 


in the morning under my feet at breakfast, at 
noon, and the twilight supper; and it had gener¬ 
ally the mourning dove accompaniment outside. 
Providence had set my ministry in Wallpack to 
the minor key; and it needed the glad tidings 1 
drew from Jesus Christ to make visible through 
the gloom the face of the Heavenly Father. But 
I saw it, and knew the fullness of a melancholy 
joy. 

The family of this well to do farmer beyond 
the Blue Mountains were a kindly, cheerful heart¬ 
ed people, descended from the historic Hessians 
of Revolutionary days. Whether the cry: “I 
want to go home!” sprang from an imprisoned 
memory, in the brain of the grandmother, of a 
childhood beyond the sea, was never known, 
though suspected; for. there was no surer way to 
bring silence than to indicate, by question or sug¬ 
gestion, a desire to lift the curtain from the past. 

The good, pleasant faced minister’s wife, not 
much past her ’teens, was slimly educated, yet 
ambitious to learn; and, ingeniously acknowl¬ 
edging her deficiencies, free to draw on me for 
such assistance as I could render in her studies. 

The silurian father could not be persuaded that 
the earth was round, and turned over to make day 
and night; or was dancing in a ring at such break¬ 
neck speed as modern ‘ 4 speculation” would have 
it. Why, the milk pans and mill ponds would 
slop over were it so. His good-natured, stalwart 
son, the wheel-horse of the farm, though doubting, 


132 


GEORGE H. DEERE 


was more malleable, and thought there might be 
something in’t. He was quite sure that Andrew 
Jackson had been president of the United States, 
and that it would not be long before we must 
elect another. 

My predecessor as a member of the family, had 
commanded a horse, and had ridden to his ap¬ 
pointment five miles northerly from his home on 
Sunday morning. After the morning service he 
would ride back, and go about as far in an oppo¬ 
site direction to an afternoon service, thus hav¬ 
ing a meeting at each point every Sunday, and 
in the evening at the school house near home. 

I was driven over the ground once to learn the 
way, and after that walked. Finding it too much 
of a tramp for one day with three services, I 
finally arranged to go north for one Sunday, and 
south for the next, preaching in the evening near 
“home,” or at some other point calling for me, as 
a school house over the Delaware in the Pennsyl¬ 
vania woods did. This arrangement did not suit 
all, and there was talk of giving me a horse; but 
three things in me were lacking to give encourage¬ 
ment: Means to keep, skill to use and desire to 
own a horse. 

Money came to my pocket in such small quan¬ 
tities that I had to be trusted at the store of a 
wealthy parishioner for a pair of boots, two dollars 
and ninety-five cents; and three years after, (the 
debt having been, as I had good reason to suppose, 
forgiven, had been forgotten), Henry Lyon of the 


SERVICE IN WALLPACK, N. J. 


133 


<£ Ambassador office,” sent me a letter asking if I 
was willing to acknowledge the debt with fifty- 
two cents added for interest, and honor an order 
received in payment of this rich man’s subscrip¬ 
tion to the paper. I honored the order, of course, 
and have kept it as a humorous reminder of those 
days of small things. What little money I re¬ 
ceived was spent to patch out my walking with 
an occasional car or stage ride in long-distance 
travel. 


CHAPTER XV 


MR. WHITFIELD. 

N. Y. A. U. License to Preach—Nyack, Haverstraw and 
New City—Thayer’s Lesson in Ministerial Econom¬ 
ics—Introduction to the Use of Glasses. 

A Mr. Whitfield, member of the Brooklyn par¬ 
ish, an Englishman of culture, having artistic pro¬ 
clivities, and some attainment by which he had 
acquired considerable wealth, moved with his wife 
and five children to Nyack, on the west bank of 
the Hudson. He had bought some land between 
the road and the river at a picturesque point at 
what was then the lower end of town. A commo¬ 
dious old mansion, with lawn sloping in view of 
the ever-busy life of the river, and trees that 
whispered of days long gone, suggested rest and 
comfort. 

A proposition had been made me through Bro. 
Thayer in September to take charge of the chil¬ 
dren of the Whitfield family as tutor after the 
English style. On visiting the charmed spot to 
have an interview with Mr. and Mrs. Whitfield, I 
was subjected to an informal examination. All 
went smoothly in the common English branches, 
but when he asked me to read a selection from 
the Greek Testament my heart was in my mouth, 


MR. WHITFIELD 


135 


for my Greek scholarship was scarcely mention- 
able among my attainments. However, I became 
calm in the doubt of his having much knowledge 
of that language, and knowing the alphabet and 
the English and the continental pronunciation of 
those days, I read courageously until he /said it 
would do. I was prepared to decline teaching it, 
when he said he had not heard it since his school 
days, and only wanted to hear if it sounded as it 
used to. No, he did not expect his children to 
study it. 

It is not surprising that I should accept the 
proposal with joy, and shape all my affairs ac¬ 
cordingly ; for I was not to abandon my solemnly 
chosen calling, but to hold a service each Sunday 
morning in the village. Mr. Whitfield had found 
a room in town that could be fitted up for our 
use at small expense, and several families who 
were ready to unite with us in worship. I agreed 
to raise the money needed, and be ready to com¬ 
mence my duties by the 1st of October. 

There was a daily boat between Nyack and New 
York, and I soon had, with the co-operation of 
Chapin, Skinner, Thayer and Balch, the little sum 
required to furnish and make respectable the 
room in which the first Universalist services were 
held in Nyack. 

Among the few documents of the olden time 
is my letter of Fellowship and License, issued by 
the Old New York Association of Universalists at 
its session in Williamsburg, now Brooklyn, east 


136 


GEORGE H. DEERE 


district. It bears date October 11, 1848; and is 
in the handwriting of Thos. B. Thayer, and signed 
by him as standing clerk. Here are a few mem¬ 
ories of its history. In the morning I went into the 
pulpit with the venerable Menzies Raynor, who 
was to preach the opening sermon; read a hymn 
and offered prayer. In the afternoon, instructed 
by Thayer, I made a statement, and presented my 
request. After endorsing remarks by Thayer and 
others, the vote was unanimous to grant me ‘ ‘ the 
fellowship of the Association and license to preach 
in its name the Gospel of Our Lord and Savior, 
Jesus Christ.” The letter is warm with Thayer’s 
loving spirit and “Godspeed.” 

I think one of the first things I did in Nyack 
was to take part in the institution of a Division 
of the Sons of Temperance, and in a lengthy dis¬ 
cussion over a name, brought harmony by propos¬ 
ing “Rainbow Division” as a substitute for the 
one on which they were becoming heated. A rain¬ 
bow is a long-range promise, but short lived. Was 
the name prophetic? Is the Division existing to¬ 
day? 

Bro. Whitfield arranged in some way not re¬ 
membered, to have me preach in the afternoon at 
Haverstraw in a Methodist church, and on Sun¬ 
day evening in a school house at New City. After 
lunch Sunday noon at Nyack Mr. Whitfield took 
me in his carriage to the Haverstraw service, and 
then to New City, where he left me and returned 
home. I enjoyed the meetings in both places. The 


MR. WHITFIELD 


137 


audiences were good. At New City particularly 
the house, lit with candles, had no spare standing 
room even. I do not remember that a collection 
was taken at the church; if so, none of it ever 
came to me. But at New City I recall the spectral 
form of the man with a hat collecting from the 
crowd in the dim light. I always went home with 
him to spend the night and walked amid charm¬ 
ing scenery to Nyack next morning. He lived in 
fine style, was a man of large means and I ap¬ 
preciated his hospitality, and the kindness of his 
family. Yet I cannot recover his name, nor that 
of a man or woman in Haverstraw, New City, or 
Nyack, save Whitfield, whose initials have es¬ 
caped me. 

I only know that the work, the opportunities 
for study, the grandeur and beauty of environ¬ 
ment, the congeniality of my home with the Whit¬ 
fields, and the kindness of friends were such that 
I was happy and contented and felt the pressure 
and thorns of poverty as little as the birds, hav¬ 
ing faith that he who cares for them would in his 
own way care for me, if faithful. The lines had 
fallen in pleasant places and I did not envy the 
wealth of others. 

In such mood I called one Monday in February, 
1849, on Bro. Thayer in Brooklyn. “Well, George, 
I’m glad to see you,” was his cordial greeting. 
“I want to have a talk with you. How are you 
getting on? I don’t mean about your preaching. 
I hear good reports of that, but what compensa¬ 
tion do you get? Tell me all about it.” The tone 


138 


GEORGE H. DEERE 


was very kind, but probing, and compelled me to 
face and look at the facts. “I have my board with 
the Whitfields in Nyack.” “You have the stud¬ 
ies of the children to look after, haven’t you?” 
“Yes, regular daily lessons.” “Well, what do 
you get for your Sunday work?” “The collec¬ 
tions pay for fuel, and room rent, at Nyack, and 
sometimes a little over; at Haverstraw they warm, 
and take care of the church; and at New City 
—well, they have to warm and light the school 
house, and have not always got enough from col¬ 
lections to pay—but Mr. - last Sunday, 

handed me, as we walked home, twenty-five cents, 
very much pleased at having that amount over 
enough to pay expenses—” ‘ ‘ Who did you say ? ’ ’ 

“Mr. -, the gentleman with whom I stay 

over night.” “Mr. -, estimated to be 

worth two or three hundred thousand dollars! 
twenty-five cents! Why, George, my patience is 
exhausted ! I have no language with which to ex¬ 
press myself! I am in the condition of the man 
who swore so furiously that the boys followed to 
hear him. He was going up a steep hill one day 
with a load of grain. The boys saw as the team 
started that the grain was running out. Curious 
to hear what the man would say when he reached 
the top the boys quietly crept after him. He 
stopped at the summit, looked back, and took in 
the situation. ‘No use, boys, it’s too, too bad; I’ve 
no words to express my feelings!’ Twenty-five 
cents! George, if you ever preach in that place 
again I’ll disown you!” Then followed a short, 





MR. WHITFIELD 


139 


pointed talk on the relations of the minister to 

money. 

I loaded myself with enough anxious discontent 
to serve as ballast for some time; and with com¬ 
mon-sense world wisdom, closed my account with 
Haverstraw and New City. After this I assisted 
Rev. S. C. Buckley in supplying at Pierpont and in 
the upper story of a saw mill at Blauveltville, as I 
had done before coming to Nyack. In recent years 
a clergyman of our church, name forgotten, re-, 
freshed me a little in telling me that he was a boy 
in that New City crowd. 

About this time Mr. Whitfield bought a piece 
of land at the extreme upper end of town and 
built a house into which he moved before it was 
finished. It commanded a fine view, and looking 
the ground over with Mr. Whitfield one day he 
called my attention to some object on, or beyond 
the water, and was greatly surprised that I could 
not see it. He took off his glasses and asked me 
to try them. Hopelessly, I put them on, for I had 
been often told that they would be of no use to 
me. A new world opened before me ! I was wild 
with delight. I could see not only the object, but 
0! so much more! I out with a book from my 
pocket, and could read the fine print several 
inches off! The good man said: “Keep them ,” 
and took an extra pair from his pocket for him¬ 
self. I have worn glasses ever since, except sleep- 
. ing. 

How the people had tolerated my awkward 


140 


GEORGE H. DEERE 


reading from the pulpit, I do not know; nor was 
I conscious what a trial it had been. I could now 
lift my face far enough above the Bible in reading 
to see my congregation. 


CHAPTER XVI 


BEGINNING AT DANBURY, CONN. 

Methods of Work—My Sister Jane Joins Me—Home in 
the Bates House on Worcester Street—Donation 
Party—Retreats—Sympathies. 

In closing a pastorate of two years at Danbury, 
Conn., my Clinton friend and fellow student, Rev. 
Timothy Elliott, nominated me as his successor; 
and I accepted an invitation of the trustees 
through Stephen A. Hurlbut to preach during the 
summer of 1849 on trial. 

S. A. Hurlbut was prominent at that time 
among the active citizens of Danbury, and mani¬ 
fested great interest in the parish and received me 
into his family on Franklin street not far from 
Main. His wife was a woman of strong intellect 
and good sense, with a young daughter, Mary Em¬ 
etine, who in the sixties became the wife of Gen¬ 
eral Rawlins, chief of staff of U. S. Grant, and 
secretary of war in Grant’s first term as president. 

When I awoke to the full consciousness of my 
situation, took account of responsibilities, thought 
of the grey heads in the congregation familiar 
with the veterans in our church, and in touch with 
the currents of the best thought and life in the 
world, I felt myself but a child, ill-furnished, and 


142 


GEORGE II. DEERE 


presumptions in engaging to go in and out among 
this people as pastor for a year and to face them 
from the pulpit twice every Sunday to instruct 
and direct in the Christian life. The burden grew 
terrible to look at. 

My habit of prayer stood by me and was my 
only source of strength. I remember when every¬ 
thing was new and strange at the Hurlbuts, I got 
up, lit my lamp, after a struggle with myself, and 
penciled the following which is copied solely as 
an index of inner life: 

When sick of heart and sad 
Great God, I turn to thee; 

And thou dost make me glad 
By seeming near to me! 

0, could I truly, Lord, 

Perceive how close thou art, 

Thy very faintest word 

Would cheer and nerve my heart! 

On Thee alone I hang! 

By Thee alone I’m kept! 

If aught should give a pang, 

For aught should I have wept, 

’Tis that thy blessings flow 
On me without return 

Of near the grateful glow 
That should within me burn. 

I retired with the thought that I had been bor¬ 
rowing trouble; that the burden was to be divided 
into daily portions; and that daily strength was 


BEGINNING AT DANBURY, CONN. 143 


promised equal only to the demands of daily 
needs, not to the whole burden of today and to¬ 
morrow even, much less that of a year. Short 
looks ahead, just the road immediately before me, 
not the hard places of the whole journey, demand¬ 
ed attention. A sermon was born, and preached 
itself first to me as I fell asleep. 

Now let me say here that the most justifiable 
reason for one’s giving an account of his own life 
is, in my judgment, to reveal its hidden springs, 
to throw open to any who may care the interior, 
to photograph in flashlight views the earth-dark 
chambers of the soul. Whoever does this hon¬ 
estly, truthfully, adds so much to the sum of use¬ 
ful knowledge. It is work requiring great del¬ 
icacy in handling, and sometimes involving pain¬ 
ful sense of deformity in the things seen in the 
revealed light; but, if faithfully done, it is a his¬ 
tory of a section, at least, of a soul. And as a soul 
is the only durable product in the earth, the 
earth being a school for it, such knowledge is 
more important than the history of the external 
mutations which biographies usually relate. 
Shrinking from the public gaze with quivering 
sensitiveness, I admit, therefore, a few flashlight 
views of interiors. 

The tendency ©f my mind in the beginning of 
my ministry was to take the practical sayings of 
Jesus literally, unmodified by the difference in 
social conditions in environment between the then 
and the now. It may be that I was nearer right 
than I became in the progress of my ministry, His 


144 


GEORGE H. DEERE 


sayings having been limited and modified by 
worldly experience and compromise unduly, just 
as theological ideas of the New Testament have 
been shaped by compromise with the controlling 
religions and customs of the old world. 

For example, the saying of Jesus, “Let not thy 
Left hand know what thy right hand doeth,” in 
benevolence and good works, I carried to 
extremes. The enemy of society, such as 
the burglar or pick-pocket, hides his work 
for personal^ safety. The Christian hides 
his, for the reason that seed is hidden, 
that it may bear fruit. The burglar stud¬ 
ies and plans in secret for gain from others’ loss. 
The Christian studies and plans in secret what he 
can do for another’s good; and like the burglar, 
hides himself behind the act. The discovery of 
the act may uncover both actors; but with what 
unlike results! It is joy for the Christian, but 
woe for the burglar. This joy is the Christian’s, 
discovered or concealed; and most keenly and 
purely felt when concealed. This woe of the 
burglar is a fire smouldering in him while undis¬ 
covered, and a consuming flame when found out. 
For this joy, I hunted with the burglar’s concen¬ 
tration of purpose in pursuit of gain. 

To illustrate: I saw a young man with all the 
evidences of private self-abuse plainly visible. 
Any public recognition of what 1 knew would 
have been a useless offense, doing only harm. But 
T fastened to him as a friend with an irresistible 


BEGINNING AT DANBURY, CONN. 145 

grip; and, when I thought him ripe for it, watched 
an opportunity for an informal private interview; 
then risked all by frankly telling him the truth 
as I knew it, obtaining his confession, and promis¬ 
ing to stand by him in his struggles for victory. 
Ignorance was the commonplace fact; redemption 
the commonplace result, and a grateful friend at¬ 
tached. In such cases there was incalculable com¬ 
pensation in ministry. 

My parish work was mostly with the young 
people and the children, who drew close to me 
and brought their elders. The Sunday school, of 
which I was made superintendent, I worked with 
the best results, adopting and adapting Bro. G. L. 
Demarest’s methods (my ideal Sunday school 
worker) of general drills in memorizing Scrip¬ 
ture, and the Rhode Island Universalist cat¬ 
echism. 

I hunted for the crooked everywhere to 
straighten them; for the unfortunate and suffer¬ 
ing to study ways of unobtrusive secret help. To 
be aggressive, and not self-obtrusive, was not 
easy, though vitally important. I knew some¬ 
thing of the power of prayer, and used it in secret 
freely. I knew 1 was not working according to 
the standard or methods of any church with 
which I Avas acquainted. Naturally eccentric, I 
found grounds in the- New Testament in which 
my oddity could have free play. 

My parish calls Avere on business. However in¬ 
formal, after I had studied the family, I carried 


11 


146 


GEORGE H. DEERE 


in my mind some message, some information, sug¬ 
gestion, or request, conducting the conversation 
in such way as to lead to it incidentally, 
if possible. I was on my feet out of 
doors most of the time, carrying my work 
along in my head as I went about among 
the people at Bethel, Wildcat, Grassy Plain, 
Mirey Brook, Plumtree, Sleepy Hollow, the Boggs 
Mill Plain, or into the solitude of Thomas 
Mountain, Tamarack Woods or the woods and 
cemetery north of town. 

The Washingtonian temperance meetings were 
there held regularly every Monday evening in 
the old court house, and I at once put them to 
use and took part. The large court room was 
usually crowded. 

I know my aims were high, and believe my prin¬ 
ciples of Christian archery were correct, though I 
often missed my mark. But hit or miss, I was 
happy in the intention and effort to do good. In 
my second year, when I boarded again alone on 
Franklin street, I remember there passed a stream 
of hatters going daily to and from the Boggs 
hat shops. In the dusk of evening stragglers 
could be seen returning home in a semi-drunken 
state, not exactly certain as to the location of 
the path up Franklin Hill. I watched till I saw 
one who really needed a guide and hitched on to 
him in a friendly way, having often to combat his 
objections. Usually before reaching his home, a 
mile or so from town, I’d have him crying on his 


BEGINNING A T DANE UR Y, CONN 147 


knees, in some cases genuinely repentant; in 
others, glib to promise reform to be rid of me. 
I tested very thoroughly the worth and worthless¬ 
ness of the pledge, and learned to use it with cau¬ 
tion. 

As soon as it was apparent that I was gaining 
ground, and the signs of success sufficiently vis¬ 
ible, I wrote to Brooklyn to have my sister Jane 
join me. I saw work that a woman could do that 
a man could not reach alone. Jane had no ties 
to bind her to Brooklyn, and wanted to come. She 
was a singer, with an extraordinarily fine voice 
which would have distinguished her had the op¬ 
portunity for culture been as good as today. 

The Hurlbuts lacked room to accommodate us 
both; but William H. Clark, a dry go.ods mer¬ 
chant still in business in Danbury, occupied a 
large house not far from the head of Main street, 
with plenty of room, and would take us. So I 
soon had the happiness of my sister’s companion¬ 
ship. We had been at the Clarks’ long enough for 
her to exchange letters with mother, when I 
wrote her, August 7, ’49, in part as follows: 
“I wish, dear mother, you were here to see how 
comfortably we are situated in this really beau¬ 
tiful village. * * * As you enter Main street from 
the south the first public building on the right 
is the court house. Exactly opposite is the jail, 
within a stone’s throw of which is our church, 
lifting its weathercock far above a deep, soft- 
toned boll. * * # Nearly a mile away, at the north 


148 


GEORGE H. DEERE 


end of the street, you turn to the right and soon 
come to Mr. Wm. H. Clark’s house. Go through 
the parlor and up one flight of stairs. The back 
room is Jennie’s, the front room is mine. * # * 
Take the path now from the rear of the house to 
a lovely sylvan brook. Listen to the music of the 
waters! Stoop a little, and see beneath those fine 
old trees an arbor on an oval island, my out-door 
home study. # # * Dear mother, we are just as 
busy as we can comfortably be. Our meetings are 
improving in numbers and in other respects; 
our Sabbath school is increasing rapidly. Wish 
you could be here a week from Wednesday to go 
with us to a beautiful grove five miles away on a 
picnic for our school. A committee from the so¬ 
ciety has waited on me to engage me for a year.” 

There were two brothers in the parish by the 
name of Bates, Stephen and George. Stephen 
was a trustee, an honest, true-hearted blacksmith, 
with a shop just above the church on Main street, 
and a home a little off Main on Worcester street, 
on which the church cornered facing Main. Be¬ 
tween the church and Stephen’s home, George 
lived. Both houses were at the foot of a steep 
grade in the road running up Deerhill. Before 
I went to Danbury George had lost his first wife, 
and the house had been closed just as she left it. 

As soon as it was known that I was engaged for 
a year, Mr. Bates proposed that we live in his 
house, near the church. The suggestion that we 
keep house pleased the people and set them talk- 


BEGINNING A T DANS UR Y, CONN. 149 

ing plans for a donation party. Steps had already 
been taken by the trustees towards my ordina¬ 
tion, that I might discharge all the duties of a 
clergyman legally. 

Early in September we were at home in “our 
own hired” everything; and by the close of the 
month wood-house, larder and purse, particularly 
the wood-house and larder, showed plethoric signs 
of a healthy, common sense donation party. 

I remember, among others present, “Louisa,” 
before mentioned, with her sister Mary and broth¬ 
ers Samuel and George. George was in my Sun¬ 
day school, and Samuel quite regular with his 
father in the evening meeting. Louisa was a 
fixture in the Congregational choir, though she 
attended occasionally with her brother in the 
evening. My sister became attached to Mary, 
about her own age, and to Louisa, who was six¬ 
teen; and had them both to tea with us several 
times before the party. 

I had three out-door retreats, the most import¬ 
ant and sacred being Thomas Mountain, south of 
town. Here I isolated myself the most perfectly 
from all human material environment, and found 
the largest spiritual horizon and closest touch in 
consciousness with God. 

I felt myself more in sympathy, it must be con¬ 
fessed, with the spirit and aims of that collect¬ 
ively large and cultured class found in the other 
churches, as well as our own, that stood on the 
common ground of unity in the love of Jesus 


150 


GEORGE H . DEERE 


Christ, and affirmation of his word as at once the 
basis and root of all true life, than of the general 
controversial spirit of my own denomination that 
survived all its real battles. But my judgment 
was unalterably fixed in favor of our side of the 
discussion relating to destiny. I deemed the con¬ 
clusions reached by us vitally important, suffi¬ 
ciently so to justify hearty union and co-opera¬ 
tion with the people banded together for their 
maintenance and cheerful willingness to “both 
labor and suffer reproach” with them in their be¬ 
lief. 

I understood better through experience what 
my pastor, Thayer, used to say in Brooklyn: 
“There is a high fence between ourselves and 
other churches and some folks think that noth¬ 
ing good grows the other side. It is a mistake. 
Look over into your neighbor’s garden in a 
friendly way and you will learn much that will 
be of use to you. ’ ’ 

The old Adam was with us on both sides, of 
course, in our revolt against the medieval the¬ 
ology, as he always is wherever there is sharp 
contention. He grows and fattens in the fight, 
and conducts a guerilla warfare after the regular 
battles have concluded the issue. This ill-will to¬ 
wards an opponent dies slowly in all conflicts, es¬ 
pecially the religious. It lingered in both parties 
with diminishing strength, to the close of my min¬ 
istry. In every parish I have had from one to 
three advocates of doctrinal preaching, by which 


BEGINNING AT DANBURY, CONN. 151 

was meant controversial, or anything to beat the 
“orthodox.” The church, the conference meet¬ 
ing, or the Sunday school, unless used to this end, 
were well enough, but lukewarm, uninteresting, 
and too much like the “orthodox.” Their ideal 
Universalist was a fighter. Unless the minister 
carried, the chip conspicuously on his shoulder 
everywhere, he was either afraid or seeking pop¬ 
ularity. This class of hearers, if class it maj r be 
called, liked best my expository and defensive 
sermon, but were always hoping something more 
drastic. The call to growth in grace and experi¬ 
mental knowledge of our Lord Jesus Christ, was 
too much like a call to arms against one’s self to 
please old Adam, and too much like the “ ortho¬ 
dox.’’ 


CHAPTER XVII 


ORDINATION. 

Relations to Women and Thoughts of Marriage—First 
Wedding—Interest in Child Culture and Public 
Schools—P. T. Barnum in “Danbury Times”— 
Chapin and Balch at a Fair and Festival. 

My ordination occupied the attention of the 
parish in October, 1849. I did not consult my 
heart as to who should perform the act of ordina¬ 
tion, or have part in it. Danbury was under the 
jurisdiction of the “Southern Association of Uni- 
versalists, ” whose authority to confer ordination 
was vested in a “Committee of Fellowship and 
Ordination.” Rev. Moses Ballou of Bridgeport, 
and Rev. J. J. Twiss of Stamford, were clerical 
members of said committee. The trustees of the 
parish made due request of the Rev. Moses Ballou, 
chairman of the C. F. and 0. for my ordination. 
Wednesday, October 17, ’49, was fixed upon by 
correspondence as the time and Danbury as the 
place. Rev. Mr. Ballou to preach the sermon, 
Rev. Mr. Twiss to offer the ordaining prayer, and 
Rev. Henry Lyon of the “New York Christian 
Messenger” to represent our general church. In 
a kind letter from my Clinton instructor came the 
suggestion that Mrs. Sawyer—“C. U. S.,” the 


ORDINATION 


153 


sweet singer of our Israel—would write me an or¬ 
dination hymn if desired. As Miss E. Jane An¬ 
drews of our parish, then well known and ad¬ 
mired for her contributions to the Universalist 
press, had already written a hymn for the occa¬ 
sion, I shrank from the honor of two original 
hymns, and so wrote Bro. Sawyer. 

My sister was soprano in a quartet, doing ex¬ 
cellent and very attractive work, often making 
my heart tender with the remembrance of the 
church plays of early days. Her presence in the 
singer’s gallery was specially felt in the service 
of ordination. My mother was not able to at¬ 
tend. 

Here is the order of services as published in the 
“Trumpet,” and the original hymn as sung by 
the congregation: 


1849 . 

Ordination at Danbury, Conn. 

The ordination of Dr. George H. Deere, as a min¬ 
ister of reconciliation, took place at Danbury, Conn., 
on Wednesday, October 17. The order of service we 
copy from the New York Christian Messenger: 

1. Voluntary, by the Choir. 

2. Reading of the Scriptures, by Bro. J. J. Twiss. 

3. Introductory Prayer, by Bro. H. Lyon. 

4. Original Hymn, written for the occasion, by 
Miss Andrews. 

5. Sermon, by Bro. M. Ballou, from Tim.- iv:16: 
“Take heed unto thyself and unto the doctrine, con¬ 
tinue in them; for in so doing thou shalt both save 
thyself and them that hear thee.” 


154 


GEORGE H. DEERE 


6. Ordaining Prayer, by Bro. Twiss. 

7. Singing. 

8. Charge, by Bro. Lyon. 

9. Right Hand of Fellowship, by Bro. Twiss. 

10. Benediction by the pastor. 


Ordination Hymn. 


(By Miss E. J. Andrews.) 

Great God! who to thy chosen Son 
Thy spirit largely gave. 

With fervent prayer to thee we come. 
And thy rich blessing crave. 

We plead that it may rest with him 
Who stands before Thee now; 

Assist him by Thy grace to keep 
His consecrated vow. 

A faithful minister of truth, 

May this thy servant prove: 

The Master chosen in his youth, 

Oh! may he ever love. 

Through hi©i to Thee, oh, may he turn. 
For wisdom’s heavenly ray; 

And at the feet of Jesus learn 

The Life, the Truth, the Way. 

Thy children who afar have strayed 
From innocence and bliss, 

Oh, may he bring to Thee arrayed 
In robes of righteousness. 

Enable him through all life’s woes 
To view a father’s hand; 

And may he reach when these shall close 
A bright and better land. 

When Thou dose call, then ma> tie throw 
His gospel armor down, 

To take upon a sinless brow 

A bright, immortal crown. 



ORDINATION 


155 


In my relations to women I had early conclu¬ 
sions differing with social sentiment and cus¬ 
tom. It seemed to me better that choice should 
precede special attention, and every form of court¬ 
ship. Determination of choice, the most solemn 
and important act of the earth life, should be the 
outermost gate to the realm of matrimony. 

My rule, therefore, was to hold all women on a 
high level in thought, to be kind and respectful to 
all alike, checking all inclination toward any one 
more than toward another, thus avoiding all en¬ 
tanglements, heart-aches and crushing disappoint¬ 
ments. Their general repute, and unaffected con¬ 
duct in the ordinary walks of life furnish better 
opportunities to learn their nature and character 
than either of two engaged persons could have 
in the study of each other’s best as mere actors, 
bound to show attractions and conceal defects. 

The most solemnly important question of life, 
now that my sister was engaged to marry, I took 
with me to my mountain retreat for prayerful 
consideration. I say prayerful in no light or su¬ 
perficial sense. It would he an injustice to my 
soul to conceal the fact that every important 
movement made was discussed in all its bearings 
with the full consciousness of God’s presence, and 
with supplication that he would indicate in some 
way what I should do in any case. And never 
were questions more sharply pressed upon the 
divine ear to learn the mind of God than these: 
11 Shall I marry, or no!” “In which state shall I 


156 


GEORGE II. DEERE 


be able to accomplish most in my ministry, in 
companionship with another, or alone?” This 
preceded all consideration of persons. God only 
knows the solemn debates I had with myself over 
this question. I talked it over with a successful 
clergyman of large experience. All the help 1 
got was a story with this conclusion: 

“If you marry, you will be sorry!” Then after 
a short pause: “You will be sorry if you do not 
marry!” God’s answer seemed no clearer, and 
my soul seemed to say: “You will marry! You 
have no mother with you now, and will soon have 
no sister; you will need a companion, you will 
marry!” “But who?” I asked. “Wait and see,” 
said my soul. 

There was no suspension or interruption of 
work. But as none of the conclusions in think¬ 
ing were positive negations, any more than the 
answers to questions put to God or man, all the 
resting time, and moments of relaxation not un¬ 
conscious were flooded with sentiment that 
buoyed up the question: * £ Shall I ? ” until 

“Who,” took its place in the dissolving view. I 
had no fortune to lay at the feet of any woman 
to induce her to accept me. My future in this 
world, all I had to offer, was the uncertain one 
of a poor minister, handicapped in ways other 
than the unpopularity of the church he loved. My 
choice when made, I knew had great odds against 
its acceptance, and I began to pity the woman 
upon whom the lot might fall. This brought me 


OR DINA T10N 


157 


the nearest I ever cameAo a positive negation. I 
said to myself, softly: “I will not marry. f Trust 
in the Lord, ’ for yourself alone, * and do good; so 
shalt thou dwell in the land, and verily thou shalt 
be fed.’ You have chosen poverty and service 
for yourself; what right have you to yoke in an¬ 
other? and possibly a group of others?” Still, 
my soul said: “Wait and see .” 

My first wedding, November 11, 1849, was nota¬ 
ble because it was my first, and because I had two 
couple to marry under one ceremony. It was 
about a year and a month before my own wed¬ 
ding and a year after I had become a man in the 
eye of the law. What I did not know for sure 
then was not worth knowing. It was my business 
as a minister to counsel and admonish, in season 
and out of season, as opportunity offered. And 
what an opportunity a wedding, and a double 
one at that, afforded a minister just out of his 
’teens. I was surer then than at three-score years 
and ten exactly how married life could be made 
perfect. So the most notable thing about it, 
a preliminary fifteen-minute address, was lost to 
the world because there was no stenographer pres¬ 
ent. 

I was chuck full of knowledge, too, about 
children, how they should be educated and 
brought up. I smile as I recall the memory of 
my enthusiastic interest and dogmatic earnest¬ 
ness in educational reforms in child culture. 

Experience in the common schools began in 


158 


GEORGE H. DEERE 


Danbury. As a clergyman I was one of the 
“school committee.” An important part of our 
business was the examination of applicants for 
authority to teach. The examinations were oral, 
and each member had his turn in asking questions. 
Youth and inexperience did not need sectarian 
prejudice in associates to make the office a try¬ 
ing one. But when you add the prejudice of the 
group you are examining to that of your asso¬ 
ciates, it takes a strong arm to pull an oar against 
the current. 

After the chairman, the Rev. Mr. Stone, Cong., 
had gathered the names, ages, residence, and 
school history of each, I was given the lead of ex¬ 
amination in arithmetic. Wholly ignorant of the 
usual methods of procedure, knowing only that I 
was to find out what these people knew about 
arithmetic, and their ability to teach it, I used 
a method of my own. Beginning with the first 
teacher in line, a woman, my first' question 
brought a fire of questions evidently intended to 
embarrass me. Encouraged by sly, approving 
smiles and nods from my associates, she might 
have succeeded had not the Rev. Mr. Stone called ♦ 
out: “Stop a moment! Let us have an under¬ 
standing. Are you teachers examining us, or we 
you ? Please ask no more questions; confine your¬ 
selves to answering categorically. If you can’t 
answer, say so and stop.” The sly nods and 
smiles hid themselves. I cooled and continued 
my work with no more trouble. Ever after all 


ORDINATION 


159 


went smoothly, and Mr. Stone and I were friends. 

There was a district noted for its free use of 
intoxicants. A teacher of over average ability, 
who had held the school for a long time, passing 
all examinations triumphantly, was too fond of 
the social poison to be always in fit condition for 
his work. His lapses from sobriety became more 
and more frequent. Complaints had come to the 
board again and again supported by unequivocal 
evidence, but he was very popular in his -district 
and sheltered himself behind some defect in the 
law. A motion to annul his certificate was finally 
unanimously passed. 

Meanwhile, I had been proposed for member¬ 
ship in the Odd Fellows’ lodge. The day before 
the action on the proposition the “gentleman” 
called on me, announcing himself as an Odd Fel¬ 
low, wishing to know how I had voted on the 
board of education in his case. I knew at once 
what it meant, and answered: “The vote to an¬ 
nul was unanimous. ’ ’ He then made a talk in his 
own behalf which virtually admitted the offense, 
but criticized the action of the board on some 
technical ground as illegal. After hearing him 
through, I replied: “Sorry, sir, but with the evi¬ 
dence presented before me I should vote the same 
today.” Taking his hat and-rising, he said: 
“Well, we ballot tonight, you know on—” “Yes, 
I understand, but that can make no difference. 
Good day, sir.” “Good day,” with a scowl. 

I was blackballed, of course, and gained friends 


160 


GEORGE H. DEERE 


while the lodge lost. A sermon on “ Friendship,” 
a Sunday evening after, crowded our church. 
The Odd Fellows were not mentioned. I had 
great respect for them as such, T. B. Thayer, I. 
D. Williamson, E. H. Chapin and others of our 
church being conspicuous members. In after 
years I found the order a good handmaid of the 
church in humanitarian work. 

The first sign, not reckoning the increase in 
congregation, and the growth of the Sunday 
school, that my work was attracting the attention 
of the general public, came in the form of an 
article in the “Danbury Times, ” as the “ News’ * 
was called in that day, denouncing Universalism. 
Success in those days provoked opposition through 
the pulpits, and occasionally through the press. 
I was in arms at once for defense, the defensive 
being my only controversial attitude in a minis¬ 
try of over half a century. 

My reply was partly written, when, in the next 
issue of the “ Times,” which was a weekly, I 
found a letter from P. T. Barnum, the well know T n 
native of Danbury, who answered the belligerent 
article, and challenged debate of Universalism on 
Scriptural grounds, with any one who might be 
chosen by the clergy of the borough. He prom¬ 
ised to furnish an acceptable defender of the doc¬ 
trine that Universalism is a Bible truth. 

For a moment, of course, I was chagrined that 
the defensive work had been so suddenly snatched 
from my hands. But a little reflection showed me 


OR DIN A TION 


161 


that the guns of the opposition had been effect¬ 
ively spiked by the short letter, and nothing re¬ 
mained but to burn my writing and go about my 
regular business. My flash of anger gave place 
to steady gratitude for the shield of a veteran 
thrown over my youth. 

A two days’ fair and festival was held in the 
court house in Danbury. In those days speeches 
often constituted an attractive feature. I suc¬ 
ceeded in engaging E. H. Chapin and W. S. Balcli 
of New York, to attend and make addresses. A 
practical joke played by Balch on Chapin is too 
good to be left untold. 

From New York Chapin bought a railroad 
ticket to Bridgeport for a dollar. At Bridgeport 
he paid another dollar for a ticket to Hawleyville, 
where they were to take stage for Danbury. Balch 
bought a through ticket for Danbury for one dol¬ 
lar and fifty cents. Together, through some blun¬ 
der, they took a morning train to Hawleyville, 
leaving the cars some hours before stage-time. 
It was wait in a dull, lonely depot for the stage, 
or walk. With Balch, small in person, and a 
practiced walker, it was all right, but for Chapin, 
with his heavy, corpulent body, it was another 
thing. 

Balch made light of the walk as an affair of 
only two or three miles, and urged walking as 
preferable to waiting, sold his stage ticket and 
started. It was an uneven, hilly road, and nine 
miles to Danbury. I met them, incidentally^ 


12 


162 


GEORGE H. DEERE 


about 3 o’clock on Main street as they came into 
town, Balch fresh, Chapin limp. “We have walk¬ 
ed from Hawleyville, Deere,” said Chapin, not 
overly happy, 4 ‘ and are dinnerless and tired. Take 
us to the nearest place where we can rest and 
eat. ’ ’ 

In a notice of this visit to Danbury in the 4 4 Am¬ 
bassador,” of January 5, 1850, Bro. Balch wrote: 
'‘The society, we are happy to say, is doing re¬ 
markably well under the judicious labors of our 
young and devoted Brother Deere.” 


CHAPTER XVIII 

MARRIAGE OF MY SISTER. 

Question SetJed—Courtship Trial of Faith—Miss Mary 
Bull—Who Should Marry Us—B>ury Lyon—Xmas 
Eve, 1850—Rev. J. S. Hillyer, N. Salem—An Intro¬ 
duction and Tip-over in a Snow Bank. 

My fourth wedding, George Bates and Deborah 
Davis, May 22, 1850, necessitated the vacation of 
the house we lived in on Worcester street, to give 
place to its owner and his bride. My fifth was of 
my sister, Alvira Jane, to Charles White, a mem¬ 
ber of our church quartet, who was married May 
27, 1850, from the home of the Hurlbuts on Frank¬ 
lin street. To this wedding of my sister our 
mother came up from Brooklyn with her hus¬ 
band, Jacob G. Day, and made an extended visit. 

Left alone with the Hurlbuts, my sister going 
to a home o/ her own, I felt keenly my isolation 
in the life path never again to be joined to that of 
mother or sister. It seems perfectly natural, 
therefore, that 1 should have been drawn to no¬ 
tice a pair of bright, laughing eyes that nothing 
near or far could escape; tongue never at a loss 
for words that could talk a statue into sociability: 
a girl not quite seventeen, just out of short 
dresses, suitably educated, with a mind turned by 


164 


GEORGE H. DEERE 


her philanthropic teacher, Miss Mary Bull, to¬ 
wards school and missionary work—and it was 
perfectly natural for me to like her. 

Her father, Samuel S. Downing, was a friend 
and member of my congregation. Rev. Menzies 
Raynor, a clergyman of our church, had married 
him some 25 years before to Miss Mary Ann 
Adams, a blood relation, tradition has it, of the 
Massachusetts John Quincy Adams’ family. 

He had proposed me to the division of “Sons 
of Temperance, ’ ’ and I had become a worker with 
him in the temperance cause in that order, and 
we had much business together, which drew me 
often to, his house. 

Louisa sang, as I have said, in the Congrega¬ 
tional church choir, and had a circle of young 
friends with whom I came in touch on these oc¬ 
casions. I paid her no special attention; but with 
the question “Who?” ever haunting me when the 
resolution never to marry was sleeping, I studied 
her. I noted first, especially, her ever-ready tact 
in interesting the dullest, a valuable gift in a 
minister’s wife. She was quick where I was 
slow. While I was thinking how a thing should 
be done she would do it, and generally right 
She did not seem to study, but to absorb knowl¬ 
edge, from her environment as well as from 
books; and her never-failing memory held all she 
knew ever ready for use. 

In a word, the conviction steadily grew that 
adding her cheerful brightness to my somber 


MARRIAGE OF MY SISTER 


165 


earnestness I should have a stronger hold on the 
world in my ministry and be able to accomplish 
more than seemed possible alone. So I let love 
take the reins out of my hands and drive me di¬ 
rectly toward matrimony. 

In July I took my first step. I asked her moth¬ 
er’s consent to solicit her daughter in marriage, 
and, being favorably received, before I slept, was 
the affianced husband of Ann Louisa Downing. 

The engagement was not kept secret. On her 
birthday, August 14, 1850, when she was 17 years 
old, I gave her a “Religious Album,” in which 
I find two pages of my rhyme. One is an intro¬ 
duction, in which I say: 

Think not because ‘‘Religious” 

Is coupled with my name, 

I’m like a dark fastidious, 

Pleasure-killing dame. 

Think not that tears of sorrow, 

Of faithless fear or doubt 
Of Him who feeds the sparrow, 

Will best my page set out. 

A light in darkness shining, 

Believe religion true, 

That scatters woe and pining 
As sunlight does the dew. 

Louisa would look o’er me, 

All gilt, with friendship’s rays, 

From shady age restored be 

To youth’s sweet sunny days.” 


166 


GEORGE H. DEERE 


A page near the end has a characterization, and 
summing up of my prayers concerning her, from 
which I quote the following: 

4 ‘Like a bud that’s unfolding, all lovely to view. 

She exhibits enough, and still promises more 
Of the charms of the mind and all we adore; 

She can sew up a rent in a garment that’s torn, 
The kitchen can keep or the parlor adorn; 

And is suited to occupy high place or low, 

And be quite contented where duty bids go. 

May our Father, Louisa, whatever thou art, 
Endurance to each of thy virtues impart, 

In the conflict that’s ever with all that is wrong l 

42. AS- 4b 

w • w w w w w w 

May the path which. His loved voice commands 
thee to tread, 

Lie beneath serene skies only manna that shed; 
Where flowers their beauty and fragrance pour 
’round, 

And soul-thrilling warbler delight thee with 
sound. ’ ’ 

I felt that, loving me as she confessed she did." 
I could mould her young mind into harmony with 
my own. I believed that, though our theological 
opinions differed, and my personal property was 
but a handful of books and a meager wardrobe in 
a trunk, and real estate nil, I could make her 
happy. I had told her frankly the sad story of 
my life up to date; and her sympathy and cheer- 


MARRIAGE OF MY SISTER 


167 


fill acceptance of the situation, perfected my 
assurance that we had been brought together 
providentially, and that my hope before God cov¬ 
ered us both with its promise. 

One thing alone troubled me, our theological 
differences. She had been carefully educated by 
her faithful teacher, Miss Bull, in the Congrega¬ 
tional orthodoxy of that day. I resolved to make 
use of the fact after we knew our minds in rela¬ 
tion to each other, in a test of character. 

I called one evening in a very sober mood, so 
serious that she caught and shared my solemnity. 
As soon as we were alone, 1 said: “I have a very 
important question to ask, and wish you very 
carefully to consider it before you answer. Do 
you really believe in the doctrine of endless pun¬ 
ishment ? ” 

She sat a minute thinking; then in a tremulous 
voice, said: “Yes; you know that I have been 
taught it always, and I believe it is the teaching 
of the Bible.” “Yet you know,” said I, “that 
my life is consecrated to ministry in the Univer- 
salist church, which holds to a doctrine wholly 
irreconcilable with that.” 

There was trouble in her voice, with threat of 
tears, as she slowly replied: “Yes, I am aware 
0 f it—and, I suppose, I know what that means; 
you—wish to break our engagement. ’ ’ I was 
more than satisfied, and said: “No, dear, I’d 
part with an arm sooner! I think more of you 


168 


GEORGE //. DEERE 


than ever, for you have told me the truth without 
evasion / 9 

The sky cleared, and we talked our way to¬ 
gether into practical unity in the love of God 
and the service of Jesus Christ, trusting to come 
into unity of opinion as we grew in life and ex¬ 
perience. This is not a reading of present 
thought into the past, but a recall of the thought 
and spirit of that trial evening which closed with 
happy prayer before we said good-night. 

For more than a year she would ask me to ex¬ 
plain the proof texts of the orthodox horrors, 
which I would do in few words without debate; 
and then I would offset them with proof texts 
of Uriiversalism, and receive her explanation 
when she had any. Of course, it was mutually un¬ 
derstood from the beginning that, as my wife, my 
church would be her church, my people her peo¬ 
ple. 

About this time Miss Bull thrust a hand into 
our affairs to satisfy her conscience. The dark 
New England orthodoxy of fifty years ago had 
no stauncher disciple than Miss Mary Bull, and 
yet I had a reverential admiration for the good 
woman’s self-sacrificing devotion to the interests 
of children, particularly the unfortunate. To be 
a. destitute orphan, a blind, deaf or deformed 
child of poverty, was a sure passport to the warm¬ 
est place in her heart. Louisa had told me stories 
of her manifestation of this Christ spirit till re¬ 
spect had grown to high esteem. 


MARRIAGE OF MY SISTER 


169 


Soon after our engagement Louisa and I sat in 
a pew in front of Miss Bull at a temperance lec¬ 
ture in the Congregational church. A report that 
we were keeping company was confirmed by her 
sight of us; and the very next day, on a very cold 
afternoon, she called to see Mrs. Downing and 
Louisa about it. I happened to be there. Louisa, 
seeing her coming, had fled upstairs, leaving Mrs. 
Downing and myself to receive Miss Bull, whom 
I had never met. The color left her face when she 
discovered me in introduction, and her gracious 
smile disappeared, as she shivered and took her 
seat in perceptible embarrassment. 

With the kindest feeling I did my very best .to 
put her at ease, but failed. An acquiescing “yes” 
or “no” was all I could extract from her. She 
sat awhile awkwardly dropping a monosyllabic re¬ 
sponse to whatever Mrs. Downing or I might say, 
and soon withdrew. 

She called on a next door neighbor and poured 
into her ear the burdens of sorrow that Louisa 
had fallen into the snare of Universalism. The 
neighbor, trying to comfort her, only added to 
her grief by saying: “Mr. Deere is a good man, 
and has the respect of everybody, so far as I 
know.” “Oh, that makes it all the worse. A 
bad man would have no influence. He is all the 
more dangerous! ’ ’ 

Visiting Danbury later in life, this woman be¬ 
came one of my warmest friends, confessing 
great changes in her religious views as the years 


170 


GEORGE H. DEERE 


had rolled by. But I found only growth in the 
Christ-like character which I saw in that early 
day. She was one of the whitest souls washed by 
the tears of life in Danbury. 

I wanted the wedding on Thanksgiving day, 
but was overruled in favor of Christmas eve. 
Who should perform the ceremony ? Some one of 
our church, of course, and I must choose. My old 
Brooklyn pastor, Rev. T. B. Thayer, was first in 
mind, but X saw that the time was most incon 
venient for him to be so far from home. Besides, 
he was a bachelor of forty, with economical no¬ 
tions that w T ould pronounce my act unwise, and 
it did look unwise in a wholly worldly view. I 
shrank from the thought of the critical expression 
on his keen face. It made my heart ache. I did 
not think he had enough practical faith in the 
providence of God in behalf of those really conse¬ 
crated to the work of the master. But if not 
Thayer, who then? 

Rev. Henry Lyon of the “Christian Ambassa-' 
dor,” New York, an old acquaintance and friend, 
was supplying at Norwalk. I wrote him for an 
exchange on the Sunday before December 22, 
and arranged to have him stay over and preach 
Tuesday evening, Christmas eve. He had a packed 
house that night, even Miss Bull being present, 
everybody expecting the wedding at the church. 
But as mother Downing was unable to attend 
church at all in those days, we had the ceremony 
at her home just before the crowd assembled for 


MARRIAGE OF MY SISTER 


171 


worship. Only relatives and two or three invited 
neighbors were present. 

The public had no ground for expecting a 
church wedding outside imagination. It had not 
been made a bait to draw a crowd, though it 
proved such. Of course, the intention to marry 
had been announced from the pulpit, according 
to custom, by the Rev. Mr. Lyon on Sunday, but 
no mention had been made of place. We were 
sorry to disappoint so many of our friends; no 
one, however, could blame us. The mother was of 
more consequence than the public. She with my 
own mother and sister, made for me public 
enough. 

The day after Christmas we did what I had for 
some time thought of doing, went to call on my 
nearest neighbor, the Rev. S. J. Hillyer at North 
Salem, N. Y. I had great respect for him though 
I had never seen the man. He had nested himself 
in the heart of the community by a pure, exem¬ 
plary citizenship that held him in a long and hon¬ 
orable pastorate. Mrs. Deere has always spoken 
of it as somewhat “cheeky” in us to sleigh-ride 
to our first meal away from home as husband and 
wife with a clergyman over whose head we had 
called a man from the city to marry us. But he 
was too much of a Christian gentleman to mani¬ 
fest anything but kindness to his young self- 
absorbed visitors whatever he may have thought. 
It was a pleasant winter outing, and is well pre¬ 
served in memory. 


172 


GEORGE H. DEERE 


The Sunday after the wedding I was called to 
Newtown to attend the funeral of the widow of 
Solomon Glover, a preacher of the olden times 
of whom it was said: “He had the whole Bible 
in his memory.” Name any book, chapter, and 
verse and he could repeat the words. 

Fordyce Hitchcock, a preacher who held some 
sort of clerical position in the employ of P. T. 
Barnum, and married a daughter of Uncle Sam 
Jennings, supplied for me that Sunday. We 
dined in Newtown with an aunt of my wife, for 
whom she was named, and met a number of her 
relatives. 

Not many days after I had a funeral in the 
country several miles from town, about which 
Mrs. Deere recalls with me two things which 
mark it for record. She was introduced by the 
undertaker to a room full of mourners and 
friends as the Rev. Mrs. Deere, which startled her 
near to fainting. 

On our return as we entered Main street from 
the east, the lively horse made a sudden spring 
in rounding the corner and threw us both into a 
soft snow bank within a few rods of her own 
door. She did not answer when I spoke to her 
lying in the snow. “Is she dead?” A ripple of 
suppressed laughter reassured me. I had the 
horse under perfect control, and there was no 
harm but the fright. 

“Uncle Sam Jennings,” as he was popularly 
called, was a notable character in those days. He 


MARRIAGE OF MY SISTER 


173 


was the man whose vigorous career as temperance 
reformer under the Washingtonians started from 
the bottom of a grave he was digging in the down 
town Worcester cemetery. Not knowing the 
length of the person to be buried, and thinking 
him about his own stature, he laid down in the 
grave while intoxicated to get the measure, and 
lay long, unable to rise before his outcries brought 
help. He was the honored secretary of the Wash¬ 
ingtonian Society whose Monday evening meet¬ 
ings I so regularly attended in the court house. 
As janitor in our church his deafness annoyed us 
greatly the first winter. For better hearing he 
had the pew right under the pulpit in front. As 
soon as I had read my text he would leave his 
seat and tramp in heavy, squeaking boots the 
length of the aisle to the big stove near the door 
to replenish the fire. He would noisily open the 
fire box, pull the coals to the front with heavy 
tongs, shove in the wood, shut the door with a 
bang, and tramp back to his seat. I stood it un¬ 
til I saw that it annoyed the congregation, and 
that no talking would change him; then I stopped 
as soon as he was out of his seat and leaned on 
the pulpit, watching him in silence. He halted 
and looked back when he felt the silence; then 
hurried through his work back to his seat. I read 
my text again and began the sermon, and was 
never after troubled by him. He lived on Main 
street near the church, and we made our home in 
his family until we left Danbury for Warren. 
Mass. 


CHAPTER XIX 

GO TO WARREN. 

Schools—Cowe’s, Etc.—Massachusetts Convention— 
Boston—Winchester Association—U. S. General 
Convention. 

Through the unsolicited recommendation of the 
Rev. 0. A. Skinner, just returned from New York 
to his old parish in Boston, I had been invited to 
preach as a candidate, in Warren, Mass, the first 
two Sundays in March, 1851. I went alone, and 
a lonely trip it was. On my return we made our 
arrangements to remove to Warren and begin 
work there the first of April. 

Home for me was with Louisa, wherever she 
might be. So moving to Warren among strangers 
with her was joy compared with the lonely visit as 
a candidate. Of course, partings with people and 
places were, as they always have been, painful; 
but, in companionship with my wife, I found more 
strength to bear. 

We boarded on the hill south of the railroad 
station, with Sullivan Cowee who had charge of 
a “section gang” on the road. The salary was 
only $400, but cost of living was comparatively 
small, as is indicated by the fact that we paid but 


GO TO WARREN 


175 


three dollars and fifty cents a week for both of 
us, including light and fuel. 

Our two years in Warren were a ministerial 
honeymoon, in which the words of St. Paul were 
verified: “He that is married careth # # # how 
he may please his wife.” I did not neglect my 
parish duties, however, having socially, wife’s 
efficient co-operation, though she was the 
youngest woman among the young people, with 
her knowledge of church work yet to acquire. 
She was a quick and apt learner and soon became 
effective in ways in which I was deficient. 

After a time I was made superintendent of the 
Sunday school, and at the first “town meeting” 
was elected one of the three “school committee¬ 
men” and became chairman, an office by no 
means a sinecure. Unlike California, we had the 
school books to select, the teachers to examine, as 
well as their work to supervise, direct, and an¬ 
nually report. Circumstances threw the burden 
on my shoulders the second year, and I became 
familiar with the children of the whole town, and 
came closely in touch with nearly all the people. 
In company with Dr. Calvin Cutter, the fearless 
and conscientious reformer, author of a standard 
high school physiology, I took part in temper¬ 
ance and educational meetings in every district, 
besides spending days in the school room of which 
I had to write an elaborate circumstantial report. 

Wife and I both began the study of German 


176 


GEORGE H. DEERE 


under H. M. Grout of Vermont, the principal of 
our Warren high school. 

In June, 1851, the first year, we attended the 
Massachusetts state convention of our church at 
Chicopee and met many of our clergymen. Most 
prominent among them in memory stands Father 
Ballou of Boston, whom we met then for the first 
time face to face. It proved to be his last meet¬ 
ing with the convention. I did not know enough 
about him then to be impressed except by his ven¬ 
erable personality and peculiarities of speech. We 
were guests of T. A. Denison in whose family ac¬ 
quaintance ripened into warm friendship. 

I had two good ears for learning, but a very 
shy tongue, always ready, however, for duty. I 
do not remember to have spoken a word publicly 
in the convention. 

The following September the Winchester Asso¬ 
ciation met in Warren. The only distinctly re¬ 
membered facts about it are a visit of Rev. B. F. 
Bowles, my Clinton school friend, representing 
South Bridge, and the pleasure every one ex¬ 
pressed in the pulpit work of Rev. H. D. L. Web¬ 
ster from Stafford Springs. Recollections of the 
association are weakened by absorbing interest 
in a first visit to Boston. The Universalist Gen¬ 
eral Convention met there a week later and of 
course we must attend. 

The General Convention of our church in Bos¬ 
ton in 1851 brought together a large company of 
our most distinguished ministers. Their ren- 


GO TO WARREN 


177 


* 

dezvous was on Cornhill in the publishing house 
of Abel Tompkins, the wise and generous friend, 
particularly of the younger ministers, and of the 
promising literary people of our church. Across 
the way was the office of Thomas Whittemore with 
his “Trumpet” of no uncertain sound; and of 
Sylvanus Cobb with his family paper, “The 
Christian Freeman,” doing excellent work for 
Universalism. 

We were hospitably entertained by the family 
of a brother of Franklyn Drury of our Warren 
parish. Our kind host was of the firm of Hinck¬ 
ley & Drury, locomotive manufacturers. 

I can mention but a few well remembered inci¬ 
dents of personal interest that crowd my mind, 
among which not the least is the meeting almost 
daily at Tompkins’ with the Rev. Theodore Clapp 
of New Orleans, La., whose autobiography I had 
just read, and of whose church I was pastor in 
1871-2-3. 

Coming.out of Sebastian Streeter’s old church 
on Hanover street from a morning conference 
meeting in which I had ventured to speak, Father 
Ballou joined us at the door and walked with us 
to Cornhill. Speaking of the Rev. Mr. Clapp’s 
conversion to Universalism in New Orleans, La., 
he said: “Don’t it seem strange to you that Mr. 
Clapp had never read anything on the subject, but 
had worked his way out all alone—he, New Eng¬ 
land born and educated? It seems strange to me 
—very strange! ’ ’ 


13 


178 


GEORGE II. DEERE 


I remembered this talk when in New Orleans 
I learned from a brother of Rev. J. C. Waldo, an 
old member of the parish, that the Rev. Mr. 
Clapp had been an habitual reader of his copy of 
“The Trumpet/’ I am not sure, however, that 
this was before his conversion. 

One day in old School Street church at the close 
of some service near the end of the session, 
Louie and I were in an aisle as Father Ballou 
came along on his way out and stopped in front 
of us and took both our hands in kindly greeting. 
Then laying one hand on my head and holding 
her hand with the other, while looking benignly 
down into her face, he said, tenderly: “Pooty 
young couple for the ministry—pooty young 
couple!” We both felt the genial sweetness of 
the simple act, and have cherished the memory 
as of a patriarchal benediction. We never saw 
him again. He passed from earth the following 
June. 


CHAPTER XX 


WARREN—SCHOOLS—TYPHOID FEVER- 
SPIRITISM. 

In the early part of October the Springfield 
Sunday school came to Warren to join our school 
in a picnic. The weather proved chilly and rainy, 
driving u$ from a grove to a hall. I took a se¬ 
vere cold, and Louie fought it with “ composi¬ 
tion” and hot water. Failing to break it up she 
called in Dr. Warrener. He pronounced it a se¬ 
rious case of typhoid fever which must have its 
run and ordered me to bed, installing my wife, on 
her insistence, as nurse. 

So I lay in an upper room over the parlor, 
starving my body after the old regulation style. 
During the week in which the fever was said to 
have ‘ r turned,” having devoured about every¬ 
thing except bone, skin and vitals, the doctor 
gave me no hope of recovery. 

My wifely nurse who had not slept for more 
than a week except to doze a little in her chair, 
ready to jump at the least sound from the bed, 
went down for a few moments one morning of this 
fearful week, leaving a piece of dry toast on the 
medicine stand beside the bed, of which the doc- 


180 


GEORGE H. DEERE 


tor and said: “Nibble a little three times a 
day.” 

When she returned I had eaten the whole of 
it. She was terribly frightened. The doctor, 
when told of it, shook his head, saying most sol¬ 
emnly: “I cannot be responsible for the conse¬ 
quences !’ ’ They looked lor a relapse, but I 
dreamed of feasting from that on with an in¬ 
satiable hunger haunting me day and night. Did 
the bit of bread not so large as your hand save 
my life ? 

Whatever the effort to conceal, I read the sup¬ 
posed dangers of my situation in the anxious 
voices and faces of the few admitted to my bed¬ 
side. I had looked death in the face before with¬ 
out a tremor of fear, and was buoyed by hope that 
was alone troubled by the clinging love of my 
poor wife, whom I dreaded to leave to buffet her 
way alone through the rough world. Her love 
held me, and slowly, 0 how slowly! I came back 
and faced the world again. 

One of the happiest days of my life was 
Thanksgiving Day, the last of November, 1851. 
Dr. Warrener had dismissed his medicine, relaxed 
his restraining orders and left me with a com¬ 
fortable degree of freedom. The day was full of 
sunshine and our hearts full of hope. Though tot¬ 
tering with weakness I was dressed and ready to 
descend to the living room for the first time, when 
Louie said: “I’ve something to tell you, George, 
before we go down.” Seating myself, I said: 


TYPHOID FEVER-SPIRITISM 


181 


Well, dear, what is it?” “Dr. Warrener,” she 
replied, “gives the credit of your recovery to my 
good nursing.” “Yes, truly, he was right,” said 
I. Then came my surprise: “I have done a good 
deal of thinking while you have been sick, and 
have become—a—Universalist! ’ ’ 

Need I say we were happy—almost too happy 
for words? Thanksgiving was never more joyous 
than that day. 

My convalescence was long and tedious, but the 
revelation it made of the kindness of friends was 
a tonic more effective than all medical prescrip¬ 
tions. The ministers of the central part of the 
state supplied my pulpit, teaching me by example 
the meaning of the phrase, new to me then: “A 
labor of love.” I was out of the pulpit eleven 
Sundays. Of those so supplying I remember Rev. 
M. E. Hawes, my immediate predecessor in War¬ 
ren; Rev. B. F. Bowles, classmate at Clinton, then 
at Southbridge, Mass.; Rev. J. W. Ford, Spring- 
field; Rev. O. H. Tillotson, Worcester. 

I mention one family so emphatic in its kind¬ 
ness that the name stands for the parish in its 
ministry during sickness and recovery. 

Nathan Richardson, Esq., with his wife, 
wealthy, cultivated Unitarians, were affiliated 
with the parish and served its interests faithfully. 
Miss Mary Moore, niece of Mrs. Richardson, mar¬ 
ried Nathan R. Richardson, a nephew of our War¬ 
ren friend of that name and author of “Richard¬ 
son’s New Method of the Pianoforte, ” known the 


182 


GEORGE H. DEERE 


world over by pianists and still in use. All 
have crossed the bar save Mary, whose corre¬ 
spondence with my wile continues to this day. 

During convalescence strange stories came to 
me of the “Rochester Knockings,” which had 
broken out in Warren in one of my best families. 
Mr. J. C. Brown, a manufacturer of scythes, in 
the lower town, I regarded as one of the clearest 
headed thinkers in the parish—cool, slow to be¬ 
lieve, honest and wholly trustworthy. His wife 
was a strong, self-reliant, sensible woman, and 
both were wMl educated, and very well informed. 
They had a daughter, a bright pupil in the pub¬ 
lic school, some twelve years old, who had shown 
signs of mediumship. 

A young man employed by Mr. Brown in the 
foundry and boarding with him, had become a 
“trance medium,” and given wonderful manifes¬ 
tations. He was reported as coarse and uned¬ 
ucated, but refined and elegant in speech in the 
trance state. Mr. Brown and his wife were both 
inquirers and anxious that we should spend a 
week or more in their home as soon as I was able, 
and investigate. I had read somewhat of the 
Rochester Knockings before leaving Danbury, and 
had thought much about them, as well as of sim¬ 
ilar phenomena in the old world; so duty and in¬ 
terest made me eager to learn what I could from 
personal experience. 

I took no notes and have only vivid memories 
of experiences and observations of the phenomena 


TYPHOID FEVER—SPIRITISM 


183 


in Warren. They led me to conclusions determin¬ 
ing my personal relations to spiritism. Time has 
demonstrated the conclusions and justified the at¬ 
titude then taken. I record briefly in outline the 
potent facts: 

We were with the Browns four or five days be¬ 
tween Sundays. The seances, as we learned to 
call them, were held evenings in a large, well 
lighted back parlor, with a heavy dining table in 
the center. Around this table sat Mr. Brown with 
his family, and the few invited guests, hands 
(palms down) lying loosely open in sight on top. 
The medium sat in a rocker at the head, and 
Brown’s eldest daughter usually presided at the 
piano, music being indispensable to the phe¬ 
nomena. 

“ Table tippings” were the .first course, and lis¬ 
tening for “raps,” which were not abundant nor 
loud. My good ears heard none that were satis¬ 
factory, but the “tippings” yielded intelligence 
and were strong. The medium breathed hard 
when the trance came on, threw himself with 
closed eyes back in his easy chair, and soon began 
to talk. He knew nothing in his normal state that 
he had said or done in the trance, it was said, and 
was under the control of George Washington, 
whose habitat was in the fourth sphere of the 
spirit world. 

The conception was of a.stratified ethereal world 
enclosing this stratified material earth as a nu¬ 
cleus. There were seven strata or spheres, in 


184 


GEORGE H . DEERE 


which George Washington had his home in the 
fourth stratus above the earth. 

Unseen visitors would appear to the medium, 
be described and generally recognized by a sitter, 
and communicate. Occasionally one communicat¬ 
ing was afterwards discovered to be still in the 
flesh. Surprising personal characteristics of the 
departed were shown in action by the medium and 
had great weight as evidence. The invisible com¬ 
pany making themselves known to us seemed 
about the same intellectually and morally as an 
equal number taken from any average represent¬ 
ative town in New England. One handled the 
table roughly to tell us that he was the devil. 

Mary, the child, had been encouraged to de¬ 
velop mediumship by herself greatly to our re¬ 
gret, and was kept out of school for the purpose. 
The table would tip with her hands alone upon 
it. She and her mother had spoken of her friend, 
Mary Darling, on the other side, whose heroic ac¬ 
tion had saved nine lives in a shipwreck at 
Longstone Lighthouse, England. “Mary,” said 
Mrs. Deere, “Why, I supposed her name was 
Grace Darling.” This ended Mary’s play spell. 

Rev. W. R. G. Mellen of Chicopee, soon after 
our stay with the Browns, came to Warren with 
his wife and her young sister, Miss Blood, to visit 
his sister, Mrs. Gregory Ellis. Miss Blood, some 
fifteen years old, was much talked about as a me¬ 
dium. The Ellises were well read, prominent 
members of the parish. 


TYPHOID FEVER-SPIRITISM 


185 


Of course, we must see the marvel in the broth¬ 
er minister’s family stopping so near in the home 
of our good friends, the Ellises. Besides, we 
wanted to learn. I had read everything sent me 
by inquiring friends, and indeed everything I 
could lay hands on and had listened to every one 
within reach who had anything important to say 
about spirit manifestations; and now was anxious 
to learn what I could from experience and ob¬ 
servation. 

I remember that as Mr. and Mrs. Ellis, Rev. 
Mr. and Mrs. Mellen, Miss Blood and ourselves, 
sat in the usual way around a dining room table 
in the deepening twilight of a spring day, wait¬ 
ing for raps and the tippings, we talked over what 
had been already learned through Miss Blood 
from the table—the only form of manifestation 
yet known through Miss Blood. 

We learned that the unseen visitants were 
mostly children, very happy, and very beautiful. 
They came from the fifth sphere through what 
they called an “albencurin, ” a sort of funnel, or 
crib to guard them from the other spheres as they 
descended to the earth. They wore on each side 
what they called a “jaquazes,” a bottle-like re¬ 
ceptacle for a supply of fifth-sphere air that 
would last them breathing through tubes con¬ 
necting with their nostrils, some five or ten min¬ 
utes, when they would have to kite back through 
the 4 ‘ albencurin, ’ ’ and replenish. 

Of the “Albencurin,” or the “jaquazes,” I had 


186 


GEORGE H. DEERE 


never read nor heard before, nor have I since. 
Why they should be the most conspicuously re¬ 
vealed of anything through Miss Blood, and not 
mentioned or in any way even alluded to at the 
Browns was as much a set-back to faith as had 
been the appearance of the still flesh-housed 
among the disembodied spirits. 

While reason was calling for a halt, I ventured 
to ask in the almost total darkness, “Can any one 
present be made to see spirits?” After waiting 
in perfect silence about two minutes, Miss Blood 
screamed as if in fright. As she pushed back 
from the table we all started to our feet in a 
panic rush for light. It was in the days of oil, 
but the light soon brought calm. Miss Blood had 
seen something. I persuaded them to put the 
light in an adjoining room with the door ajar and 
try the experiment again. 

It was now in a musical voice of ecstacy, that 
Miss Blood described the rainbow colors of the 
“Albensurin. ” and unknown colors of the dresses 
and belongings of her young visitors. 

If you have been near one who sits with the 
receiving tube at her ear talking through a tele¬ 
phone, you may form some idea of this girl’s talk¬ 
ing and laughing with her mates. We heard, of 
course, only her voice. Now and then we would 
ask a question which she would answer as if inter¬ 
rupted in her gleeful chat with her friends. 

Did the young girl simulate the fear and the ’ 
joy? I could not then, nor do I now, believe it 


TYPHOID FEVER-SPIRITISM 


187 


possible. The fear, and the joy which followed, 
were real whatever the cause. Neither the Rev. 
Mr. Mellen nor his wife could have tolerated a 
fraud, and it could not have existed without their 
knowledge. Yet, comparing our experience at 
Cie Browns with this at the Ellises, and others of 
which I had read, I was left where the flood of 
novelty had found me—only clinging the more 
firmly to the rock, Christ Jesus. 

I do not read my present thought back into the 
Warren experience but truly report conclusions 
reached then and acted upon ever since in my 
ministry. My conclusions were : 

First, The phenomenal appearing in all ages,— 
epidemic now ,—is real , though sadly mixed with 
falsehood and fraud. 

Second, It demands the attention of the scien¬ 
tific mind of the world to separate the real from 
the fraudulent, and to investigate and explain 
assertained facts. 

Third, I believed (and was strengthened by the 
belief) that the issue of such investigation would 
be the discovery of scientific grounds for fa,ith in 
immortality; on which grounds the world’s Thom¬ 
ases may stand in their love of Christ, rejoicing 
“with joy unspeakable and full of glory.” (I. Pet. 
1 : 8 ).’ 

Fourth, meanwhile my duty was to work on in 
the path I had entered as a servant of Jesus Christ 
in the Universalist branch of His church. 


CHAPTER XXI 


WARREN. 

From Cowes’ to Captain Davis’—Exchange With Abra¬ 
ham Norwood of Meriden—Visit of Timothy Elliott 
—Move to the House of John Blair—Exchange With 
Harrison Closson of Chicopee—Care of Schools 
Dropped Almost Exclusively Into My Hands— 
Luther Walcott Exchanged With Chicopee—Nathan 
Richardson, a Friend Indeed—H. D. L. Webster— 
Wife Goes to Danbury for First Visit to Her Old 
Home While I Go to Boston. 

In the spring of 1852 we moved from the Cowes 
down the hill near the center into the family of 
Capt. Davis. I remember an exchange while with 
this good family, an exchange with the Rev. Abra¬ 
ham Norwood of Meriden, Ct., author of a book, 
a bit of personal history written in the style of 
the Old Testament. He was, I think, a pastor 
who had resigned and was yet supplying, so help¬ 
ing the society. I was talked of as a candidate, 
but nothing came of it. 

Not long after this I remember Brother Tim¬ 
othy Elliott, my predecessor in Danbury, Ct., and 
Clinton associate, surprised me at the close of a 
funeral service which he had attended, having 
arrived in town in season for a secret glimpse of 
my work. The visit of this true and generous 


WARREN 


189 


brother was a great pleasure, though most mem¬ 
orable for his revelation of a fact that I had not 
hitherto allowed a place in my consciousness. 

I knew that I had been and was a sufferer 
because of my poor eyes. But I had been so 
happy in that I was not totally blind I had not 
taken into account the fact that my defect was a 
serious objection to my ministry. He opened the 
eyes of my mind to know that I could not attain 
results possible to another with perfect sight. 
That I was so badly handicapped saddened me, 
but did not discourage. 

Once more in the early summer of ’52, we 
changed our boarding place, going to the home of 
John Blair on Main street, near the lower railroad 
bridge. Memories of this summer and autumn 
are chiefly of teachers and school work, for my 
associates on the “committee” had thrown most 
of the responsibility upon me. I had to determine 
the' comparative merits of books used, examine 
teachers, and finish by visits, the gathering of ma¬ 
terials for my annual report. A somewhat amus¬ 
ing ease came up from an outside district. It had 
a lesson for me. 

I had to annul the certificate of a teacher. He 
was ridiculously worthless, judged by his exam¬ 
ination. The local committee called a few days 
after in great distress, for it was time to open the 
school. They begged me to reconsider, pleading 
that they knew him to be a good teacher. But 
he had been working on a farm during summer 


190 


GEORGE H. DEERE 


vacation and was physically exhausted when ex¬ 
amined. The young man waiting at the door was 
called in; and after a talk about keeping ahead 
of his classes in study, his certificate was renewed, 
and his proved to be the banner school of the 
outside districts. He was a natural teacher. 

The Rev. Harrison Closson, working at his 
trade as a baker in Chicopee, and studying for the 
ministry, arranged with the trustees of the Chic¬ 
opee parish for an exchange, having thought of 
me as a successor to Uriah Clark, who had ended 
his work there in some trouble. Closson, I think, 
preached his first sermon in Warren. 

Luther Walcott of Chicopee, also under similar 
circumstance and for the same purpose, ex¬ 
changed; but they were in conflict over Uriah 
and I was disappointed. It was better so, how¬ 
ever, for me. 

Too close economy was required to enable us 
to balance a $400 income and our expense account 
at the close of the year, even at the low cost of 
living in those ante-bellum times. I say “at the 
close of the year,” for such was the bad habit of 
the parish in dealing with its minister. It was 
like pulling teeth to get any dollars before the 
close. Open accounts with the stores became un¬ 
avoidable. 

This all-round credit system demanded very 
careful management lest we fall into bankruptcy, 
to which our youth and inexperience made us con¬ 
spicuously liable. 


WARREN 


191 


Early in March, ’53, Mr. Nathan Richardson, 
one of the trustees, told me that some of the busy- 
bodies about town were expressing fears that I 
would fail to pay my debts. He would like, he 
said, if I could trust him as a friend, to have me 
show him my accounts, how much I owed in 
town, and how much was due me from the par¬ 
ish. I handed him my litle memorandum book, 
and sat in silence while pencil and paper in hand, 
he looked it over. “Good,” said he, laughing: “I 
told them it would be all right when you get 
your pay from the society. Some of them have 
not paid their subscriptions yet.” He then an¬ 
nounced the amount due me for the year, which 
with the money coming from the town for my 
work in the schools, left me a small surplus. 

I told him to report me as not a candidate for 
another year, and gave him an outline of my plan 
for the future. Before nightfall my debts were 
all paid, and with a happy heart I thanked God 
for the victory and the discipline through which 
it had been achieved. 

We were strenuously active now in preparation 
for transition. I tried to effect an exchange with 
Rev. H. D. L. Webster of Stratford Springs, who 
had preached in Warren at the session of the Win¬ 
chester Association just before my sickness. Our 
people wanted to hear him again with reference 
to a settlement. I went by rail the night before. 
He was at home, and excused himself by saying 
that he could drive over Sunday morning. 

Morning came. From the foot of the stairs he 


192 


GEORGE H. DEERE 


called up (too late to start) saying: “It rains! 
I’m not feeling well, and cannot go!” Our peo¬ 
ple were disappointed, and I not satisfied. 

Soon after I accompanied Louie on her way to 
her old home in Danbury, stopping over night at 
Chicopee. I was persuaded to remain there over 
Sunday and preach, and let my Clinton chum, 
J. E. Davenport, supply Webster’s pulpit. Dav¬ 
enport drove over from his home Sunday morn¬ 
ing and found that Webster had not started. He 
said he had expected me the night before, and 
as I had not come he had given me up. So the 
people in Warren were disappointd a second 
time. 

I left soon after for Boston, stopping on the 
way at Worcester so that Warren could have the 
Worcester minister over Sunday. I took along 
credentials from some temperance organization 
in Warren as representative to some Boston meet¬ 
ing, and materials for my school report. Head¬ 
quarters were of course, at “Tompkins’ ” on 
Cornhill. With the advice of the genial Abel 
Tompkins I found a boarding place kept by a 
Mrs. Rogers in La Grange Court. Here I shared 
a room until my wife’s return from her visit to 
her parents, with the Rev. N. Gunnison, the father 
of Rev. A. Gunnison, president of St. Lawrence 
University, and met at table many other clergy¬ 
men of our faith. 


CHAPTER XXII 


FROM BOSTON TO BRATTLEBORO, VT. 

Tompkins’ store and the “Trumpet” office 
were intelligence offices, or shall I call them 
ministerial exchanges? Parishes sought minis¬ 
terial supplies for their pulpits, ministers sought 
pulpit appointments through their agency. 

Abel Tompkins became a warm friend and 
found me appointments to preach in all the re¬ 
gion ’round, even as far away as Brattleboro, Vt., 
so that I had no idle Sundays. I liked this free 
life and opportunity for study, particularly for 
the study of the people, and did not care to setle 
while it lasted—at least would have been glad of 
a year of such schooling. 

Among the places that attracted us most was 
Brattleboro, but the parish had been weakened 
and divided by the injudicious administration of 
a year of Rev. H. P. Cutting, who succeeded Rev. 
C. R. Moor, a Clinton classmate of mine. Our 
three Sundays there and intervening weeks were 
made very pleasant by the kindness and hospi¬ 
tality of the Wheeler'family, into which Addie, 
eldest daughter of Rev. W. S. Balch of New York 
city, had married. Leonard Wheeler, her hus¬ 
band, the oldest son of one of the most prominent 


1. 


194 


GEORGE H. DEERE 


business men in the town, had inherited his fath¬ 
er’s business ability, character and reputation. 
No man stood higher in the esteem of the citi¬ 
zens or was deemed more promising. 

As we had returned to Boston with this im¬ 
pression of Leonard Wheeler, the following let¬ 
ter from his pen made easy work for Arnold J. 
Hines to change our minds from no, to “yes, we 
will accept the improved terms and become your 
pastor, beginning our work at once.” 

“Brattleboro, Vt., June 14, 1853. 

“Dear Brother—Your much esteemed letter of 
the 8th was received in due time and contents 
noted and explained before our committee, but 
as you have already learned, we are not quite 
willing to give up the idea of having you to min¬ 
ister to us; so we deputed one of our number to 
visit you and see if an arrangement could not be 
made so that you could come among us, and now 
have seated myself to use what little influence 
I may have towards bringing you back. You 
have become partially acquainted with some of 
our society and so far as knowing have liked 
them. To be sure, sometimes first appearances are 
deceptive, but I candidly think that were you to 
come here you would like this society as a body, 
for it has the name of being one of the best in the 
country. But you know more of us now than I 
can tell you at this time, and I hope that you may 
know still more. I was very sorry that my mes- 


FROM BOSTON TO BRA T1LEBORO 195 


sage did not reach you on Tuesday morning; had 
it done so, I have the faith to believe that you 
would have accepted our invitation to preach to 
us the remainder of the year. You should have 
seen the blank faces of some of our people after 
I had read your letter to them. I am confident 
you would have immediately repented had you 
done so. But your mind had been made up, as 
far as our first proposition, and a second one has 
already been made to you that we will raise you 
by subscription $450 per year, and now I am au¬ 
thorized to make still another proposal; that is: 
We will hire you for the whole year, giving you 
the $450. This we thought would be an extra in¬ 
ducement for you to come, as you had expressed 
some feeling about coming for so short a time 
as six months; and still further, we will promise 
to make a levee for your benefit, same as was 
made for Mr. Cutting. At his, something more 
than $100 was realized, and I have no doubt but 
yours would be as large, perhaps more; and then 
your wedding fees would amount to something 
over $50, and furthermore, we had a bit of a cau¬ 
cus this evening, and some of the oldest members 
had something to say about being married over 
again in order that they might do a little good 
towards raising the minister’s salary. 

“But joking aside, you need have no fears that 
if you come here and do as well as you can do, that 
you will lack for friends. If you wish to keep 
house we will do what we can for you in that 
way, and should you see fit to board a while we 


196 


GEORGE //. DEERE 


will do what we can for you in the way of look¬ 
ing you up a place and assisting you to ‘get to 
rights.’ We have inquired something concerning 
board, and think you can find rooms that will 
suit you at less than $5, say $4 or $4.50 per week; 
but if you will come we will all lend willing hands 
to help you along, and I have no doubt that the 
year and probably several of them can be passed 
to advantage both to pastor and people. 

“Mrs. Wheeler joins with me in sending regards 
to yourself and wife. Should you decide to come, 
inform us as soon as possible, and when you come 
please accept of our hospitality till you may find 
suitable apartments and board. I am, dear 
brother, with much respect. Affectionately yours, 
“LEON WHEELER.’’ 

Our first home in Brattleboro in the pastoral 
office was with the Wheelers on Green street, 
corner of School. Next door, across School 
street, was the home of Alfred Simons. We were 
guests' of Leonard Wheeler about a month. Then 
. we took rooms with Alfred Simons and meals at 
the Loring sisters over the way. 

Leonard Wheeler went west that fall on a busi¬ 
ness trip and contracted t}^phoid fever, and died 
at home, December 23, 1853. Rev. W. S. Balch 
was with his daughter through the season of ag¬ 
ony and was a great comfort to us all. On our 
first Christmas I officiated at the funeral of our 
beloved friend with a heart overwhelmed with 
sorrow. The whole town was in mourning, and 


from boston to BRATTLEBORO 197 

the evidences of grief among the very poor were 
most touching tributes to his memory. 

Brother Batch, born in Andover, Yt., had spent 
much of his early boyhood among the Green 
mountains, and had married in the nearby town 
of Winchester, N. H., the cradle of our early pro¬ 
fession of faith. He felt at home, therefore, in 
Brattleboro, with his married daughter, towards 
whom the whole family would be naturally 
drawn. Emma, Estelle, Ilellena, with Johnny, 
the baby, were there when Leonard died. Brother 
Balch went abroad that summer and soon after 
his return his wife died, and Brattleboro became 
the home of the family—at least the major part 
of it. 

Brattleboro, the beautiful, was for many years 
the loadstone of my heart, inclining memory to 
visit its cool shades for rest from the world’s 
glare and turmoil. ’Twas long before weaned 
from its charms to healthful contentment else¬ 
where. 

Daylight was spent mostly out of doors in all 
weathers, summer and winter. Study on my feet 
had become too fixed a habit to be laid aside by 
such a peripatetic as I, lured in all directions by 
the picturesque. 

Whetstone brook drained the sweet waters of 
a valley eastward across the southerly part of 
town over falls sparkling and foaming into the 
Connecticut. The sides of this wooded and rocky 
valley, narrowing towards its exit, the Wesselhaft 


198 


GEORGE H. DEERE 


Water Cure, very popular in those days, had laid 
out miles of paths, constructed rustic seats, 
bridges, douche houses, without destroying, hut 
rather enhancing the natural sylvan beauty. Here 
nature made the silence eloquent with the music 
of flowing waters and friendly birds. 

I was not long in discovering the entrance to 
the paths a few rods from the Wheelers, our first 
nesting place. A walk of a mile through the 
paths brought me out on the opposite side of 
the narrow valley almost at our church door. 
Sacred grove! Could this become less to me? 
Here sermons were made, books read, questions 
thought through to conclusions. 

Over Whetstone where it dashes into the Con¬ 
necticut, the Vermont & Massachusetts railroad 
crosses a bridge, and cars run between a high em¬ 
bankment on the west, and the Connecticut on 
the east, and two miles to the north crosses a 
bridge over West river as it empties into the 
Connecticut. 

Between the bank on which the railroad runs 
and the true bank of the Connecticut, corners a 
few rods of level space on which scattered pines 
talked and sang dolefully to the winds. Here was 
a solitary retreat as sacred to me as Thomas 
mountain in the Danbury days. Here I could 
make what noise I liked, could think out loud and 
wake an echo across the river on Wantastiquet 
mountain. Here when weary of study or reading 
I could, in the absence of an invited friend, play 


FROM BOSTON TO BRATTLEBORO 199 

honestly a game of solitaire, one hand against the 
other, with stone quoits. 

Wantastiquet mountain in New Hampshire, just 
over the bridge * across the Connecticut, east of 
town, was a favorite solitude in certain mood, 
calling for the wild and rough in nature. It gave 
fine distant prospects and glimpses of the yet 
further off, with suggestions of the infinite 
beyond. Few ever accompanied me.there. Dr. E. 
C. Cross once induced me to carry a gun with him 
in a wide range over the mountains in hunting. 
I “fired at nothing and hit it;” Cross at some¬ 
thing and failed. Rev. W. S. Balch went with me 
once and we—or rather, he—talked of Palestine. 
My wife was able to go once, but when the m6od 
took me I went with it alone. Its effect was then 
like a walk by the sea. 

Another infrequent walk was to the old cem¬ 
etery on the hill westward of town, where the 
bodies of the forefathers were buried. The grave 
most honored there by me was the grave of the 
Rev. William Wells, an early pastor. 

Brattleboro’s beautiful cemetery, overlooking 
the east village from the hill on the southeast¬ 
erly limit of the town on the Connecticut, knew 
me by day and not infrequently in the moonlight 
at the full. I nfever saw a ghost there but I 
dreamed some wonderful dreams with my eyes 
wide open. 

My pen is not equal and space too limited, f 1 or 
detailed description of the charming features of 


200 


GEORGE H. DEERE 


Brattleboro, or even for a guide book index of 
all that a tourist might find it interesting to see 
in “doing” the town. The walk up main street, 
for instance, past the fork of the road to the 
park on the bench of ground overlooking the in¬ 
sane asylum is mentioned solely because it was 
the favorite short walk for study. At the angle 
of the fork of the road one New Year’s morning, 
Thursday, 1857, I was one of the earliest to be 
surprised by the discovery about daybreak in one 
of these walks of the famous Larkin G. Mead’s 
“Recording Angel,” a statue done in ice the night 
before. I stood alone, entranced by it until the 
sun shown on me, and carried home a New Year 
sermon. 

I cannot be faithful to denominational history 
and omit notice of an irritating difference in the¬ 
ological sentiment existing in those days on the 
subject of future punishment. It originated, or 
rather reached a crisis before my time, when a 
few withdrew from us, and were called Restora- 
tionists. Fortunately, these few had small fol¬ 
lowing. A large majority of those agreeing with 
them as to the continuity of consequences of this 
life into the future saw no reason for separation, 
though unpleasantly disagreeing with those who 
insisted that the consequences of sin were con¬ 
fined to the flesh. A few of these who believed 
in ‘ ‘ Salvation by rot, ’ ’ as Dr. G. H. Emerson, ac¬ 
curately, though inelegantly characterized it, 
were in the Brattleboro parish. They wanted 


FROM BOSTON TO BRATTLEBORO 201 

doctrinal preaching/’ by which they generally 
meant “controversial/’ or “anything to beat 
the orthodox.” Though I was courteously kind 
to these few, I confess they were repellant to my 
nature; and when I came in touch with minis¬ 
ters whose whole equipment seemed to be for 
such use, it was not easy to conceal the involun¬ 
tary upward curve of my back when they played 
with the chips on their shoulders or insinuated 
their superior denominational loyalty. 

One such I remember in Brattleboro, either at 
a session of the Windham and Bennington Asso¬ 
ciation or of the state convention, who made him¬ 
self so conspicuously obnoxious that I record the 
incident as an example. 

After an evening sermon from the words found 
in the 28th verse of the 23d chapter of Jeremiah: 
“The prophet that hath a dream, let him tell a 
dream; and he that hath my word let him speak 
my word faithfully. What is the chaff to the 
wheat, saith the Lord.” I had charge of the 
conference meeting that was to follow. 

The impression of that sermon as recalled half 
a century after hearing it is in essence about as 
follows: “The word of God is the language of 
our Old and New Testament; the dream (chaff) 
is anything not having this language for support. 
Woe to the dream of anything in the future life 
not based on a specific and reliable, ‘thus saith 
the Lord’—and woe to the dreamer!” 

I had evidently been measured for this coat 


202 


GEORGE H. DEERE 


by the talented minister and the people saw it. 
I read for the Scripture lesson in leading the con¬ 
ference meeting 1st Cor. 15:35-49: “But some 
man will say how are the dead raised up and 
with what body do they come, etc.,” and then 
meekly put the coat on, and acknowledged it all 
in good temper. 

The church was full and many preachers and 
good talkers were present, but everybody was so 
surprised at the turn the meeting had taken no 
one appeared ready or inclined to speak, and 
with no long delay we sang the silence to a close. 
After the benediction, all tongues were loosed. 
As the preacher of the evening came down from 
the pulpit I stood by the communion table when 
another minister of the same way of thinking as 
the preacher, approached me, holding an open 
Testament in his hand ready to impress me with 
his interpretation of the passage. I soon con¬ 
vinced him that I much preferred my own. 

I found myself pushed into a corner, so to speak, 
with the Unitarians, and in good faith was not 
ashamed of my company, for the Unitarians I 
knew then bent the knee to Jesus and sang with 
a will: “All Hail the Power!” I was not a 
stranger to Unitarian scholarship, knew some¬ 
thing of the writings of W. H. Furness, D. D., of 
Philadelphia^ had brought in my library from 
Brooklyn Andrews’ “Translation of the Gospel” 
and his notes, Channing’s volumes, Martineau’s, 
and others. 


FROM BOSTON TO BRATTLEBORO 203 


I had been intimate with the Unitarian minis¬ 
ters in town, exchanged with them, held union 
meetings and co-operated with them generally. 

My personal attachment, however, to the Uni- 
versalist denomination, into which I had been 
born out of the orthodoxy of the times, was held 
firmly by such representative men as Abel C. 
Thomas, Thomas B. Thayer, Thomas J. Sawyer, 
Hosea Ballou, 2nd., Otis A. Skinner and others of 
their kind. All the interests of my soul, also, were 
in questions of destiny, rather than of the Trinity 
or Godhead, it being enough that God is our 
Father. The reader can see, therefore, how my 
sympathies would be affected by the indifference 
of the Unitarian denomination regarding destiny 
at that time. 

A cloud of doubt and fear hung threateningly 
over the future as most, if not all, Unitarian pul¬ 
pits of that day fulminated the current phraseol¬ 
ogy of orthodox eschatology without a word of 
qualification or explanation, 

The following Bratleboro incident will illus¬ 
trate : A sister of Mrs. Boyden, educated. with 
herself exclusively in the Unitarian church from 
childhood up, came to her home with Dr. Stratton 
in Brattleboro in the last stages of consumption. 
They were from Deerfield, Mass. Mrs. Boyden 
requested me to call and see her sister and relieve 
her mind if I could of its religious distress. She 
feared she had sinned away her day of grace, and 
there was no mercy for her. When I called Mrs. 


204 


GEORGE II. DEERE 


Boyden withdrew and left us alone. The poor 
woman piteously besought me with tears to pray 
God to turn away His wrath from her. I read and 
explained the passages she named that had trou¬ 
bled her, and prayed God to manifest His love 
and pardon, and give her the mind of Christ. She 
became trustful and happy in hope, and so passed 
on. 

But to return to the close of that crucial confer¬ 
ence meeting.' I did not know when I went to bed 
that night whether I had any honest foothold in 
the Universalist denomination or not. I only 
knew that before God, I had done right and could 
leave results to Him. There was too much to 
think about to sleep, but I was peaceful—casting 
all my care on Him. Our good and careful 
brother, Wm. H. Esterbrooks, told me next morn¬ 
ing he had not slept, and feared I had made a 
mistake. How much others had slept, or what 
they thought, I did not know. I had made up my 
mind, however, that I had done all I could for the 
parish, and had told them all I knew, and could 
not preach longer without repeating myself. 1 
had thought it necessary as an extemporaneous 
preacher, to avoid repetition, not only in a ser¬ 
mon, but the repetition of sermons or of 
matter once used in a sermon. It was 
good discipline, but impracticable in a long pas¬ 
torate. And so, as the agreement between the 
parish and myself was that either party wishing 
the relations broken should give the other three 


FROM BOSTON TO BRA TTLEBORO 205 


months’ notice. I notified W. H. Esterbrook, 
chairman of the committee, as recorded in my 
diary of 1857, after four years’ work: “Brattle- 
boro, Yt., Dec. 29. 1857.—Told Wm. H. Ester- 
brook, chairman of Soc. committee, my in¬ 
tention to leave Brattleboro the first of April. He 
was surprised; said he would not have accepted 
the committeeship this year had he dreamed of 
such a thing; he had not heard a word of dissat¬ 
isfaction from any one: knew he could not raise 
so much money for anybody else; did not know 
of any one who would fill my place; the society 
had never done so well as under my pastorship; 
hoped I would reconsider the matter and stay. 
This I record as evidence to whom it may con¬ 
cern, that we do not leave Brattleboro because 
anybody wishes us to. All I know of the matter 
is in accordance with the above. 

“December 31, gave committee for Soc. written 
notice of my intention.” 

It is needless to say that before January, ’58, 
was ended, the intention had disappeared. Wait¬ 
ed on by the committee after a special meeting 
of the society, it had been talked to death, and 
the instruction as to repetition was given to “turn 
the barrel over” and repeat them all. Two of the 
best years of my ministry in Brattleboro followed. 


CHAPTER XXIII 


BRATTLEBORO. 

Funerals and Weddings—Dr. E. C. Cross—Humor—Sec¬ 
tarian Unfriendliness—Close of ’59—Visit of Dr. 
T. B. Thayer and Wife—Call to South Dedham and 
Melrose—Resignation—Brattleboro Matters From 
the Diaries. 

Funerals from the beginning of work in Ver¬ 
mont called me into all the regions ’round about. 
Brattleboro was in the southeastern corner of Ver¬ 
mont. New Hampshire was across the Connecti¬ 
cut river, and ten miles or so south we crossed 
the line into Massachusetts. This location, and 
the difference in state laws concerning the publi¬ 
cation of marriages, made Brattleboro a sort of 
Gretna Green for the clergy. I had my full share 
in town, besides drives outside to perform the 
ceremony. Reports of all weddings had to be 
made to the Vermont authorities, compelling me 
to keep a full record. But of funerals, though 
the diary of each year seems crowded, the list is 
far from complete. 

They were always held in churches when pos¬ 
sible, and on Sundays; and a sermon was called 
for whether in farm house, school house, or 
church. My congregation in town finally made 


BRATTLEBORO 


207 


such complaint to the trustees about closing the 
church that in self-defense they had to make a 
charge for my absence so great that it checked 
outside applications for Sunday funerals, which 
I always referred to the trustees. So many were 
satisfied if they merely thanked me for my serv¬ 
ices, that I was compelled to ask all well-to-do 
outside applicants if my expenses would be paid. 
The poor I always served freely, and paid my 
own carriage hire when I did not walk. A few 
were ^grieved by this action of the society for 
which I alone was responsible, but all in time saw 
the justice of it and approved. 

Dr. E. C. Cross moved from Leyden, Mass., to 
Brattleboro, I think in 1856. His face, however, 
had become familiar to me some time before. His 
large country practice often brought us in touch. 
I recall his frequent saying that a funeral always 
made a public holiday in a town in that region. 

We were riding together one day in Guilford 
when we met a woman alone in a buggy, who 
stopped us to inquire if we knew of any funeral 
anywhere to be held that afternoon. She had 
been told there was, she said, “but couldn’t learn 
where.” This poor woman had a mania for fun¬ 
erals. She never missed one, the doctor said, that 
occurred within her reach. Any old funeral 
would do. 

The smile provoked by the last paragraph sug¬ 
gests the richness of the solemnly religious soil, 
particularly the funeral, for the growth of the 


208 


GEORGE H. DEERE 


ludicrous. I recall a specimen in a sermon de¬ 
livered by Dr. Whittemore at the Windham and 
Bennington Association about that time. He was 
on his favorite theme, the Resurrection. Every¬ 
body was weeping when, in describing the old 
tumble-down burying ground of the long ago, he 
interjected parenthetically into the passage about 
the broken down fence, as if to account for the 
neglect; “they thought nobody wanted to get in, 
and nobdy in could get out. ’ ’ 

There was an involuntary convulsion of laugh¬ 
ter like a flash of lightning in a shower that does 
not stop the rain. When spoken to about it the 
doctor could not be made to acknowledge that he 
had ever said it. 

Within twenty-five miles of Brattleboro I had 
an experience at a funeral memorable as an ex¬ 
ample of another phase of this common law. The 
neighborhood was not yet wholly cleared by the 
temperance forces of society from the free use of 
the ardent. It was in a large farm house with a 
big, old-fashioned fire-place ablaze in the ample 
living room. The remains of the aged mistress of . 
the house lay in the coffin. Not far off, warming 
his hands at the fire, sat the husband bent with his 
burden of years; while neighbors and friends 
filled the room, many moving about in kindly of¬ 
fice preparing for the services. They were stran¬ 
gers to me, and I had to make some inquiries about 
the circumstances. After some trouble I got hold 
of the man who had charge of affairs and took him" 


BRATTLEBORO 


209 


a little to one side to learn what I needed to 
know. In a whisper, I asked: ‘ ‘ Have they bnried 
any children?” Yes,’’ in a loud, unsteady voice, 

I believe—ah, Aunt Sarah!—they lost three lit¬ 
tle infants, didn’t they?” “Yes, there were three, 
I m sure!” I came near putting my hand over 
his mouth. I asked no more questions. The man 
was intoxicated! 

Thoughts drawn from the story of the Prodigal 
Son were made at once consolatory and morally 
drastic in the sermon that had been called for. At 
the close the coffin was opened and the company 
duly invited to “come up and see the corpse.” 
While the people were advancing and retreating 
without much order the gushing conductor at the 
head of the coffin kept up a running exhortation 
in ejaculatory phrases to prepare for death. Sud¬ 
denly his eye caught sight of the poor husband 
as he huddled over the dying embers, and in a 
boisterous, hysterical voice, he exclaimed: “ Oh, 
Uncle Josh! I like to forgot you!” And chatter¬ 
ing expressions of regret and apology, he helped 
the old man to hurry up and take a last look at 
the remains of his wife. 

To me in the discharge of my duties, the whole 
service was most solemn with moral pathos which 
was shared by the people. There was not a sign 
of the recognition of the ludicrous by anybody. 
But on the way driving home alone I became sore 
with laughing, and ashamed that I could laugh. 

I was told afterwards by a friend acquainted! 


15 


210 


GEORGE H. DEERE 


with the neighborhood that my discourse fitted 
the occasion so closely that he doubted if I would 
have dared to deliver it had I known all the cir¬ 
cumstances. 

All was not friendly in the so-called evangelical 
churches towards us in those days. We were in 
that stage of denominational progress in which 
our people and our ministers were treated with 
kindness and respect personally according to 
their merit without recognition or endorsement 
of their church. 

For example, one refused to join me in a fun¬ 
eral service at the poor house for a pauper; an¬ 
other refused to work with me on the school 
board, alleging that I was filling the schools with 
Universalist teachers. This charge I made him 
acknowledge untrue. I had been sent to adjoin¬ 
ing towns to examine teachers for our schools. 
Several of them on my recommendation, had been 
set to work and proved successful; but not one 
attended my church. A Miss Gilbert, a particular 
friend of my wife, had followed us from Warren, 
Mass., at my suggestion, and was very much liked 
as a primary teacher. She was a Congregation¬ 
alism though. She came for friendship, occasion¬ 
ally to our church—the only basis our good Bap¬ 
tist brother had for his charge. 

May 6, 1857, my diary says: “Methodist con¬ 
ference in session in the village.” My parish did 
full duty, of course, as entertainers. May 8, the 
record says: “I invited, through the Rev. Mr. 


BRATTLEBORO 


211 


Huntington, the conference to supply my desk on 
Sunday with a minister, ’ ’ like the other churches 
in town. Saturday, May 9, “Bev. Mr. Huntington 
brought this ‘message’ in reply: If you will va¬ 
cate your pulpit and abandon the church to our 
use in which to hold Methodist meetings, we will 
use it, but we will not preach for you, thus rec¬ 
ognizing you as a Christian minister, and your 
church and congregation as a Christian church 
and congregation.” May 10, Sunday, “Told my 
congregation why I preached instead of a Meth¬ 
odist. ” Monday, May 11: Wrote a communica¬ 
tion for the “Vermont Phoenix,” to set matters 
right between Mr. Huntington, the public and my¬ 
self. June 11: “Saw Huntington’s reply—short, 
with more wit than sense or truth.” June 12: 
“Most people think I had better leave Hunting- 
ton in the mire; must reply, however. Bev. Mr. 
Tyler says he has most sympathy with Hunting¬ 
ton’s theology, but wishes he would not murder 
the English so.” 

This correspondence was kept going until Mr. 
Huntington went to Hornellsville, N. Y. His 
last letter, written after he left Brattleboro, was 
in such bad temper and English that Mr. Com- 
mings, the editor of the Vermont Phoenix, refused 
to publish it. Huntington’s replies were so long 
delayed after my letters that all interest had died. 
The last was published, however, in some Meth¬ 
odist paper, I was told, though I never saw it. 

In contrast, ten years later, in LaCrosse, Wis., 


212 


GEORGE H. DEERE 


a Methodist conference was held and Methodist 
ministers were present at the Sunday service 
in my church and one of them took part with me 
in administering the sacrament. 

Rev. Mr. Tyler, who said he had ‘‘most sym¬ 
pathy with Huntington’s theology,” Avas the Con¬ 
gregational pastor of the first church, with whom 
I was very friendly and worked harmoniously in 
school matters and public library. He gave me a 
taste of his theology Friday, April 2, 1858. It 
was a union fast day service to which everybody 
had been publicly invited. We Universalists and 
Unitarians, as usual, held our meeting in the Uni- 
versalist church in the forenoon, inviting all with¬ 
out regard to name, to take part. Unitarian 
Brown, Unionist Ranny, a Millerite, Elder Howe, 
a Methodist, and others, spoke. “Meeting a good 
one, two hours long, and well enjoyed.” 

At 3 o’clock in the afternoon the self-styled 
“orthodox” parties held their union meeting in 
the town hall. “Dr. Post,” so reads my record, 
“conducted it, and invited all who had come in 
to take part. After prayer and speeches, all by 
‘evangelicals,’ Rev. Mr. Tyler read a poem by Dr. 
Alexander, and affirmed (with stuttering!) his 
faith in hell eternal, and said if any one thought 
he could have any union with the man who de¬ 
nies eternal punishment, he is very much mis¬ 
taken ! Rev. Mr. Brown, Unitarian, spoke of love 
to God and man as true ground of union. Rev. 
Mr. Adams, Baptist, angrily endorsed Mr. Tjder, 


BRATTLEBORO 


213 


as did Rev. Mr. LeSure, Methodist, though with 
less heat. Dr. Post (layman) said the meeting 
would close with the Doxology. I arose, asked 
permission to speak; singing was hurried and I 
was silenced, though I got in a notice that I would 
review the occasion in the Universalist church 
the next Sunday.” 

April 4, Sunday morning, I record the subject 
of discourse, “Spirit of Christ,” Rom. 8:9. Church 
full; spoke over an hour. ’ ’ 

How well I remembered this, and how keenly I 
enjoyed the contrast years after on a visit to Brat- 
tleboro in a vacation from New Orleans in 1873. 
At the closing service of the Vermont Universal¬ 
ist convention I had the sermon to preach. The 
trustees of the Congregational church asked the 
convention to accept the use of their larger house 
the better to accommodate the people who wanted 
to hear their old friend. 

There was talk by some of the Unitarians with 
our folks about building a line church in the up¬ 
per part of town north of Whetstone Brook (our 
church was south) and uniting the two societies 
under me. I did not understand then, as now, 
just what such a move meant, and do not wonder 
now at the uneasiness felt by friends for which 
at the time I could not account. 

I was asked by visitors from Philadelphia to 
spend a vacation in that city preaching for Abel 
C. Thomas’ old parish there, while I looked over 
the historic ground of the locality. 


214 


GEORGE H. DEERE 


At the close of the year 1859 while I was in an 
uncertain and uneasy state of mind concerning 
the attitude of the parish as a whole toward their 
pastor, the following unsolicited and unexpected 
expression was handed me the day after the an¬ 
nual meeting. I remember distinctly the satis¬ 
faction it gave and the influx of renewed cheer¬ 
ful courage. But it did not remove the convic¬ 
tion that we had done all we could for Brattle- 
boro : 

“At the annual meeting of the Universalist so¬ 
ciety in Brattleboro, held on Monday evening, De¬ 
cember 12, 1859, the following resolution was 
unanimously adopted: 

“Resolved, That the members of this society 
have received with satisfaction and.profit the min¬ 
istrations of their pastor, the. Rev. George H. 
Deere during the entire period of his ministry; 
that his labors have been blessed to them as in¬ 
dividuals and as a society, and that it is their 
earnest desire that this relation, which has been 
so amicable and to themselves so profitable, 
should be continued. 

“ARNOLD J. HINES, 

‘ 4 H. ATHERTON, Clerk. ” “ President. 

My old Brooklyn pastor, the Rev. T. B. Thayer, 
D. D., with his wife, made us a visit, and I ar¬ 
ranged to preach in Marlboro, some fifteen miles 
to the west of us, while he supplied my pulpit. 
The Sunday was cloudy, with promise of rain. I 


BRA TTLEBORO 


215 


had a buggy and was going alone. At breakfast 
Mrs. Thayer, a comparative stranger, reputed to 
be aristocratic and exclusive, proposed to go with 
me. I offered objections: It will surely rain. 
‘Well, you have a top buggy and I have suitable 
wraps;” but the road is rough, up hill and down: 
‘That is just what I like, I can stand it if you 
can. ” It is a wild country neighborhood; I don’t 
know what sort of a congregation we shall have. 
“If you don’t want me to go, all right, but if you 
are willing, I ’ll go and try it. ” I am willing and 
pleased if you understand the disagreeables and 
still want to go. Remember I preach without notes 
and though I have chosen my sermon, I must pre¬ 
pare on the way to preach it if all is as I expect, 
but if not, I may change it. In any case, I can¬ 
not make company of you and talk. You must 
not attempt to entertain me, and I cannot enter¬ 
tain you. “All right, sir; I’ll go!” There was 
rain and disagreeables enough I thought to hinder 
the lady from saying, when we reached home in 
the afternoon, anything favorable of her ex¬ 
periment, but she declared with every appearance 
of sincerity that she had had a most delightful 
time. The memory of her rare good sense and 
affability that day, neutralized all the clatter 
ever heard about her pride and hauteur. 

About this time, as if Providence was spading 
me up preparatory to transplanting, two “calls” 
were in hand to the eastern part of Massachusetts 
—one to Melrose, the other to South Dedham, now 


216 


GEORGE H. DEERE 


Norwood. Our Boston friend, Tompkins, urged 
the acceptance of the South Dedham call, and a 
committee from that place spent several weeks in 
Brattleboro hoping to persuade us to accept. But 
the nearness of Melrose to Boston held the scales 
in its favor. 

To the Universalist Society in Brattleboro, East 

Village: 

Dear Brethren—Having received an invitation 
to take the pastoral charge of the Universalist 
Society in Melrose, Mass., and having, after pray¬ 
erful and mature consideration decided that it 
.will be best for me to accept the same, I hereby 
resign the office of pastor which I have held 
among you for the last seven years. 

Although according to the letter of our agree* 
ment three months must elapse before I can claim 
the benefit of this resignation, yet it is my desire 
that our connection may terminate with the month 
of August. I therefore request, as it will be of 
advantage to me, and, so far as I can see, no dis¬ 
advantage to you, that I may be liberated from 
my obligations as your pastor as early as the 
first of September. 

With heartfelt gratitude to Almighty God who 
has permitted us to dwell so long together with 
so large a degree of mutual good feeling and 
fraternal love, and with the sincere desire that 
He may so bless our separation that in dissolv¬ 
ing the official relation between us these friendly 
and Christian sentiments may remain unmarred, 


BRA TTLEBORO 


217 


and that no tie of affection may be broken—I 
most earnestly pray that the Lord may so aid and 
direct you in the choice of my successor that 
you may soon have a faithful and zealous minis¬ 
ter of Christ who will more than fill the place 
which I shall vacate. 

Wishing you abundant prosperity and success, 
allow me ever to remain your affectionate friend 
and brother, G. H. DEERE. 

Brattleboro, Vt., July 24, 1860. 

BRATTLEBORO MATTERS FROM THE 
DIARIES. 

Friday, 5 p. m., January 13, 1854.—“Wife and 
self baptized with Jordan water by Rev. W. S. 
Balch. Present, Deacons Hines, Esterbrooks and 
Simons; Reverends 0. Perkins and E. Davis; Mrs. 
S. B. Wh.” 

Neither of us had either memory or record of 
baptism. Brother Balch had brought with him 
from Palestine water from the Jordan, taken from 
the spot where John had baptized Jesus. The 
New Testament story of the Baptism and tempta¬ 
tion of Jesus shed a new light along my own 
pathway. The word “impressive,” my only 
comment, fails to express the deep emotion of 
the occasion. 

Monday, February 5, 1854.—“Telegraphic no¬ 
tice of Father Downing’s death received at a 
quarter of twelve a. m. Died Sunday, February 
5, 8 p. m. ” Owing to telegraphic carelessness we 


218 


GEORGE H. DEERE 


were unable to reach Danbury before Tuesday, 
7 p. m. The burial had taken place at 2 that 
afternoon, Rev. S. C. Buckley having officiated. 

Saturday, February 11.—“Visited Thomas 
mountain. Glad to see my old friend, the rocks, 
those witnesses of my early mental struggle. God 
my Rock.” Friday, February 17.—“Started for 
Brattleboro at 7. Reached home about 5; hearts 
softened by gentle sadness.” 

Saturday, April 16, 1854.—“Commenced house¬ 
keeping on Canal street, nearly opposite church. 
Mrs. J. Esterbrooks and Mrs. Bills took tea with 
us first meal. Louie happy—may she ever be!” 

Monday, August 14, 1854.—“Louie left for 

Danbury to see Samuel before his departure for 
the spirit land. God bless her! Protect, strength¬ 
en and console.” Her father and now her broth¬ 
er both go with consumption. She returned Sep¬ 
tember 8. 

In September, 1854: “Renewed the study of 
Latin.” George Hines, Lucy Esterbrooks and a 
few others made a small class who spent a morn¬ 
ing hour reciting Latin and algebra. Wilson 
took lessons in Greek. He talked seriously of the 
ministry; loaned him some books, but, tho ’ bright 
and morally clean, had grave doubts of his apti¬ 
tude and fitness. 

Monday, August 11, 1856.—“Received dispatch 
that my mother is not expected to live but a 
short time. Cannot leave until tomorrow morn¬ 
ing.” 


BRA TTLEBORO 


219 


Tuesday, August 12.—“ Started for Danbury 
with Mother Downing. Met W. H. Clark at Nor¬ 
walk, who informed me that mother died Sunday 
morning at a quarter past eight, and was buried 
yesterday p. m. Dispatch should have been re¬ 
ceived Friday. Mother died of liver complaint. 
She would have been 48 years old had she lived 
till the 15th of October. Rev. Edward Smiley 
officiated at her funeral.’’ 

Tuesday, November 4, 1856.—“Cast my first 
vote for President J. C. Fremont. Do not ex¬ 
pect that he will be elected.” Voted next for 
Lincoln and for every national Republican up to 
McKinley. Shall cast my vote for Roosevelt if I 
live. 

Sunday, May 10, 1857.—“Reorganized the S. S. 
Louie does well as superintendent.” In Warren 
Louie helped me while I superintended, and did 
the same in Brattleboro until 1857, when I in¬ 
sisted that she should take my place. “Louie 
does well,” was my recorded comment Sunday, 
May 10, when we adopted the rule that there 
should be but three pupils in a class. She had 
helped me greatly with her good judgment in 
classifying and easy social grace in managing. 
She could call each child by name. Her quick¬ 
ness in recognizing people and remarkable mem¬ 
ory of names were an invaluable aid to a semi¬ 
blind man. 

For instance, she had accompanied me in at¬ 
tending a funeral in a strange family out of town. 


120 


GEORGE H. DEERE 


Some time after, on the crowded main street of 
the village, she recognized the widow of the man 
we had buried, approaching, and had time to tell 
me the name and recall the circumstances before 
we met. 


CHAPTER XXIV 


MELROSE. 

Life in the Vicinity of Boston—Where We Remain One 
Year—East Winds Affect Seriously the Throat of 
Louie, and Combining With the Ominous Clouds 
of War, Compel Us to Go to the Interior of the 
State, Where We Find Health and Friends. 

Boston, Thursday, May 31, 1860.—Chosen vice 
president of Reform Association for Vermont. 
Went to Faneuil Hall. Waited in the ante-room 
with the notables. Introduced to Hon. Horace 
Greeley. How he has changed! Fat, and dressed 
in fashionable broadcloth, and silk hat. Young 
America had the festival and the speech making 
mostly. Responded to a sentiment complimen¬ 
tary to Vermont and the rising generation of 
ministers. 

Evoked from the diary of 1860 into the light 
of old age, how strange appear the memories of 
anniversary meetings in Boston. The realization 
of a modest hope seemed then within easy reach— 
a ministerial home in or near the Athens of 
America. It was like a midsummer night’s dream 
of the long ago swept by the cyclone of civil war 
and the fatality of disease, from the possibilities 
of earth. 

Louie was visiting her old home in Danbury 


122 


GEORGE H. DEERE 


while I was with friends in Boston, taking part in 
about every meeting, feeling myself, in ability 
at least, the peer of any of the workers of my own 
age. 

The golden hours were in Faneuil Hall, at the 
festival over which Hon. Horace Greeley presided. 
I think it was the third time I had spoken in the 
old Cradle of Liberty. Greeley was fresh from 
the great Republican convention that had disap¬ 
pointed most of us by nominating Lincoln, a 
“dark horse,” instead of our expected Seward. 
The political dice box had thrown N. Y. Greeley 
into the convention as a delegate from Oregon. 

The care with which religious bodies had then 
come to keep out of politics is indicated by the 
fact that though Greeley was in everybody’s mind 
as the incarnation of all the new Republicanism 
stood for, no one of the speakers had made an 
allusion to the chairman’s political character till 
my turn came. 

Not a word of my speech is remembered ex¬ 
cept the few introductory sentences, which were 
an unpremeditated stumble into a hit: ‘ ‘ Mr. 

President: It gives me great pleasure to recog¬ 
nize in your person the distinguished gentlemen 
from Oregon.” The roar of applause that seem¬ 
ed to me excessive, I confess not to have under¬ 
stood until some time after the festival, and ap¬ 
pears perfectly transparent only in this far-off 
after-light. 

My determination became fixed in this anniver- 


MELROSE 


223 


sary week in May, to accept a call to Melrose, if 
offered, which was, as well as one to South Ded¬ 
ham. It was also in this week that Dr. Thayer 
agreed to visit us in Brattleboro, with his wife, 
of which I have already written. 

I need not insert the highly complimentary res¬ 
olutions of the parish in accepting my uncondi¬ 
tional resignation. Suffice it to say, that accord¬ 
ing to the diary, August 30, 1860, I left Brattle¬ 
boro with Louie and Mary (her sister) for Mel¬ 
rose, Mass. 

A Sunday morning service with sermon and 
Sunday evening conference meeting was the es¬ 
tablished habit of the society, with which every¬ 
body seemed satisfied. 

The many Melrose society leaders were strong, 
fixed characters, seemingly united; but I found 
them, before the first month had expired, divided 
into cliques by political antipathies and social 
differences that filled'me with .anxiety and heart¬ 
ache. I saw that no possible intellectual work of 
mine an hour in the pulpit on Sunday, could 
bring unity, and I resolved to try to unite them 
in the conference meeting. Every energy, there¬ 
fore, was concentrated on the evening meeting, 
and sooner than I had reason to expect, the meet¬ 
ings crowded the large vestry under the audience 
room of the church. The quality of the work done 
is indicated by the fact that instead of the one 
man who would offer a mechanical prayer when 
called on, there were six or eight who would re- 


224 


GEORGE H. DEERE 


spond with natural fervor, and several could 
make our hearts glow 

Meantime, Lincoln was elected, and the South¬ 
ern war cloud began to twirl into a black cyl¬ 
inder of destruction. All attention was absorbed 
by its movements, and wild speculations were 
current as to the outcome. Then Sumter fell, 
and the storm was on. Saturday, next day 
after the news, I sat pondering the sermon for 
the morrow, and opening my Bible after the 
Methodist fashion for a text, lit seemingly by 
chance upon these words: “They are of those 
who rebel against the light.” Superstitious was 
I? Well, I do not know that. But this I know; 
the text ran straight through the heart of every¬ 
thing I had in mind to say in the sermon, and the 
full house of Sunday morning was rocked as by 
a spiritual energy. Garrison abolitionists and 
pro-slavery Democrats cheered with equal vigor, 
and one said to another, as they clasped hands: 
“Thank God, we are now, at last of one mind.” 

The Friday when news came that “Fort Moul¬ 
trie had attacked Fort Sum ter, ’ ’ Louie was at 
work in her sewing room with a dressmaker. I 
came home and went up stairs with the heavy tid¬ 
ings, and the key was soon turned on the un¬ 
finished work and remained so for a month. Gov¬ 
ernor Andrews’ call for woman’s work in equip¬ 
ping soldiers for the war drew the housewives of 
all the churches together in the town hall, dis¬ 
solving all differences in the heat of a patriotism 
that brushed everything before it into the “Mel- 


MELROSE 


225 


rose Soldiers’ Aid Society .” Louie was ■ chosen 
president, but consented only to serve as vice 
president, with the wife of the Baptist minister in 
the chair. Thus began her enthusiastic devotion 
to the stars and stripes which continued until 
they floated triumphantly over a united nation. 

Denominational and party lines were either ob¬ 
literated or obscured by the smoke of conflict. 
There remained but friends and foes of the na¬ 
tion—which are you? For or against? 

At the very beginning of settled life in Mel¬ 
rose I was urged by G. H. Emerson, D. D., the 
strenuous thinker of our church, afterwards the 
editor of the “Leader/’ to join a small group of 
clerical students in an informal club for self- 
improvement, to meet, I think, once a month. The 
members were at the time but few, of whom I can 
remember only Hosea Ballou, 2nd., the most 
learned and modest; E. C. Bolles, a newcomer, 
young and brilliant; the aforesaid Emerson, and 
C. R. Moor, my Clinton mate. There may have been 
others, but memory cannot recall them. I won¬ 
dered at the smallness of the number until warn¬ 
ed by my old Chelsea friend, Chas. H. Leonard, 
of the Spartan character of the work with whick 
he would have nothing to do. A paper was read,, 
then each member took his turn in criticising. 
The victim was bound in silence until the flaying- 
finished, and no critic was allowed to say one* 
word in commendation. I saw Bolles enter the 
hopper with a paper on “ Proverbs, ” and come 
out smiling, tho’ considerably cut up; and had 


16 


226 


GEORGE H. DEERE 


the courage to offer something on “The Origin 
of Ideas, ’ ’ which I never had a chance to try on. 

“Bull Run” knocked everything into chaos ex¬ 
cept Uncle Sam’s struggle for life, and Louie’s 
throat trouble which began with her residence in 
the east winds of the New England coast reduced 
her voice to a whisper, reminding us strongly of 
the fate of her father and brother. The command 
of physicians to go inland was peremptory. “Go 
inland or die!” I lost nerve and hope—except 
the hope in God—and was moved rather than mov¬ 
ing. 

Shutting off a crowd of details that are clamor¬ 
ing to be inserted, I here submit a letter called 
for by the Shelburne Falls parish at their semi¬ 
centennial celebration on the-day of- 

1903. That ends with our departure for LaCrosse, 
Wis. 



CHAPTER XXV 


Letter to the Shelburne Falls First Universalist So¬ 
ciety on the Occasion of the Fiftieth Anniversary 
of their organization, Written at Riverside, Cal., 
February, 1903, by G. H. Deere. 

(A letter from Rev. W. D. Potter of Shelburne 
Falls, inviting Dr. Deere to be present at the fif¬ 
tieth anniversary of the founding of the Univer¬ 
salist church in that place or if he could not come 
to write a letter of reminiscence of his life as 
pastor there and a cut of himself and wife evoked 
the following letter in reply:) 

To the First Universalist church, Shelburne Falls, 

Mass., greetings: 

In the July following the February of 1853, 
containing the day you celebrate, wife and I be¬ 
gan our work in Brattleboro, a little over the line 
in Vermont. Bernardston was our next ecclesi¬ 
astical neighbor on the south, and next came the 
beautiful Deerfield valley with its Shelburne 
Falls. Rev. H. B. Butler of Bernardston (still 
living, I think), and Rev. Judson Fisher, (now in 
the spirit land), pastor of your young parish, kept 
the road open between us by exchanges and visita¬ 
tions, and wove strong bonds of friendship and 
unity. 

In 1860 I accepted a call to Melrose, one of Bos- 


128 


GEORGE H. DEERE 


ton’s bedrooms, where it soon became evident that 
the east winds were not favorable to my wife’s 
health. Before the year was half over the physi¬ 
cians gave warning to retire inland. My hopes 
of life within sight of Bunker Hill monument 
faded, and the world became very dark with war 
clouds. 

Shelburne Falls was without a pastor, as 
Brother Fisher had moved away. I wrote my 
friend, John M. Thayer, of Shelburne Falls a full 
account of the situation. 

To spend our usual August vacation we went in¬ 
land again to our old Brattleboro home, where 
Rev. C. R. Moor, my predecessor there, was to 
spend his vacation with his wife. We made our 
headquarters there in Brattleboro, while I ful¬ 
filled engagements to preach in Lyden, Bernards- 
ton and Northfield Farms. From notes in my 
diary I now copy a few selections, omitting much 
that might be of interest to the few survivors, for 
the sake of reasonable brevity: 

Tuesday, August 8, 1861.—“Left Melrose on a 
vacation visit to Brattleboro.” 

Sunday, August 25.—“Preached at Northfield 
Farms. John M. Thayer came by way of Brat¬ 
tleboro from Shelburne Falls to see us. He came 
as a committee from the society, with a proposi¬ 
tion wk’^h I am inclined to consider favorably.” 

Melrose,Sunday,Sept. 1.—“Resigned the super¬ 
intendency of the Sunday school. In the after¬ 
noon resigned my charge of the society in Melrose 
to take effect immediately.” 


LETTER TO SHELBURNE FALLS 229 


Thursday, September 19.—“Left Boston for 
Shelburne Falls at 11 o’clock. Arrived at J. M. 
Thayer’s about seven p. m. and spent the night.” 

Friday, September 20.—“Brother Greenleaf 
had written me that the society wished me to 
commence the first Sunday in October, but I did 
not receive his letter, so have no appointments for 
three Sundays. Took tea with Mrs. Sargent, with 
whom we are hereafter to board.” 

Saturday, September 21.—“The Methodists of¬ 
fered their church for a five o’clock service. Our 
society not being ready, declined. 

“The Methodists then, through their commit¬ 
tee, invited me to preach at five o’clock, saying 
‘were it not that we are expecting a stranger, we 
would ask you to preach at the regular service.’ ” 

Sunday, September 22/—“Heard Mr. - 

from Gill, in the morning; did not go out in the 
afternoon till five, when I preached in the Meth¬ 
odist church from 1st John 4:19, Rev. Mr. Bell, 
the pastor, taking part in the services, Rev. Mr. 
-of Gill, in a pew.” 

Thursday, September'26.—“National fast day. 
In the afternoon read a hymn and offered closing 
prayer at the union meeting in the Methodist 
church. Rev. Mr. Bell preaching.” 

Sunday, October 6.—“Commenced service for 
the Unive.rsalist Society in Shelburne Falls in 
Anawanset hall.” 

From this on I was fairly “in the saddle” at 
Shelburne Falls. The exigencies of the times 
were such that the Methodists were compelled to 




230 


GEORGE H. DEERE 


suspend public services, and offered for a small 
sum the use of their church building, which stood 
next to our upstairs Anawanset hall, on the Buck- 
land side of the river. 

Sunday, April 6, 1862. — The diary says it 
was ‘ ‘ our first Sunday in the Methodist church; ’’ 
and Sunday, May 18, it says: “We learn today 
that all the pews in the church are rented except 
the pulpit pews.” 

The church life of the parish had not been 
cultivated. The society, which had been intellect¬ 
ually fed by the gifted Judson Fisher, needed 
spiritual quickening. For two years I devoted 
my every energy to this end, and the diary says » 
that “in the afternoon of Thursday, December 1, 
1864, the services of organizing the “First Uni- 
versalist church in Shelburne Falls began.” Ac¬ 
cording to the diary, “the sermon was by the Rev. 

L. Holmes of North Adams, from the text Matt. 
16:18. After the sermon thirty persons, jail 
adults, fourteen males and sixteen females, came 
forward and, after they had made profession, and 
covenanted themselves, twenty-one were bap¬ 
tized by me and nine received the right hand of 
fellowship. Brother Holmes then gave the church 
the fellowship of the churches. 

Again, the diary says, December 7: “Church 
meeting in the school room,” and again on Wed¬ 
nesday, December 14: “Church meeting in the 
evening at the school room. Rev. Earl Guilford 
of Ashfield (retired) and Brother Elbridge Ad- 


LETTER TO SHELBURNE FALLS 231 

ams, elected deacons, and George W. Chase, 
clerk. 

And still, again, Saturday, December 31, the 
last day of 1864: “Brother Guilford and Brother 
Adams came in the evening and arranged for the 
communion tomorrow, January 1, 1865—our first 
as a church in Shelburne Falls.” 

Please pardon the quotations from my diary. I 
plead in the fashion of Henry Ward Beecher, who, 
when criticised for the stories in his sermons, re¬ 
plied: “You would give me credit if you knew 
how many I keep out.” I have quoted nothing 
concerning the Good Templars’ and temperance 
work, of the Odd Fellows, or the Masons, or 
the public schools, organizations that were used 
for human betterment; nor of Di Bowen and her 
school room, where met the “Soldiers’ Aid So¬ 
ciety,” made up from all the churches, among 
whom the Universalists were always conspicuous; 
nothing of the Fifty-second regiment, and its 
draft on our society; nor of our brave Ozro Mil¬ 
ler, and the Tenth Massachusetts, which preceded 
it, sending back shocks of news oscillating be¬ 
tween joy and despair; nor of funerals and me¬ 
morial services for fallen heroes by loved ones 
at home. Oh, the heartaches, the terrible heart¬ 
aches of those days! 

In 1863 Brother H. S. Greenleaf and J. M. 
Thayer recruited Company H for the Fifty-second 
regiment, and Brother Greenleaf became Colonel 
Greenleaf, and went south to the war. On Wed¬ 
nesday, February 24, 1864, Mr. and Mrs. Sargent 


232 


GEORGE H. DEERE 


left us alone in their house and went to New Or¬ 
leans to see Colonel Greenleaf about salt mines 
and other business. They returned Saturday, 
September 24, pronouncing the enterprise a fail¬ 
ure, Brother Sargent at once with his accus¬ 
tomed promptness and decision, commenced prep¬ 
arations to remove to Rochester, N. Y., with the 
Yale and Greenleaf Lock factory, of which Mr. 
Sargent was the brainy mechanical power. This 
took so many from the parish that in despair, on 
Sunday, October 9, I resigned, and gave notice 
of a farewell meeting with the friends at Di. 
Bowen’s school room on Wednesday evening. 

Monday, October 10: “Did not expect so much 
feeling among the people! Pressed on all sides 
to remain.” 

Tuesday, October 11: “All sorts of good things 
promised if we ’ll stay. Stopped at Spear’s where 
we will remain while in town. Finished 
my part of the packing, Louie having done hers 
yesterday. Committee called; told us how strong 
the desire that we stay.” 

Wednesday, October 12: “Meeting at Diana 
Bowen’s school room. When at the close of a 
little talk I announced that we would stay, there 
was clapping of hands and other demonstrations. 
Brother Guilford said some pleasant things in be¬ 
half of the people, and Brother Sargent showed 
his big hearted generosity. Mrs. Sargent left 
for Rochester next day.” 

Mrs. Deere came for her health, but while she 
recovered her voice, her health was not restored. 


LETTER TO SHELBURNE FALLS 233 


She was handicapped by illness most of the time. 
Our friends were very kind and considerate, par¬ 
ticularly during the last year in which her illness 
increased till she was confined to her bed. Her 
brightness and cheerfulness were no index of her 
vitality, or sign of the absence of suffering. We 
struggled on, hoping against hope, painfully 
watching her decline. 

During our last six months we were the for¬ 
tunate inmates of the home of Mr. and Mrs. 
Green, now Mrs. Jenks, whose unremitting care 
and kindness did much to make the invalid com¬ 
fortable, and give me courage. 

Among the unsolicited “calls” that came as the 
war clouds lifted and revealed their silver lining, 
none drew me as the call to LaCrosse, Wis., and 
Saco, Me., one east, the other far west. Shall we 
go to Saco? Melrose experience with east winds 
forbids! Shall we accept the renewed call from 
far away LaCrosse, strengthened by their accept¬ 
ance of my proposed conditions? Two letters 
were in my pocket as I left our room for the 
post office — one accepting, the other declin¬ 
ing finally. I was undecided which to mail. I 
was in an agony of doubt and uncertainty which 
had grown for days of anxious thought and 
prayer. The answer could wait no longer. The 
cry in my heart was: “Which shall I mail? Oh, 
God, give me an outward sign»of thy will!” I 
cried, as I stood in a solitary place, looking up 
into the. sky. That instant a large meteor made 
almost a straight line from east to west, as I 


134 


GEORGE H. DEERE 


gazed. I was not superstitious. My head asked: 
‘ ‘ Shall I accept the sign ? The meteor would have 
passed just the same had I not been in existence/’ 
“Yes,” replied my soul, “but how came I to be 
here at this time looking up into the sky with 
this agonizing cry in my heart ? ’’ 

I accepted it as an answer to my soul’s cry, and 
acted upon it as a word from God. A fixed pur¬ 
pose took possession of me. I became strong and 
unwavering from that moment, and the results 
have abundantly justified me, and I now re- 
newedly thank God for His guidance and good 
providence, and invoke His richest blessings upon 
my old church in Shelburne Falls and upon its 
faithful and beloved pastor. 


CHAPTER XXVI 


LACROSSE. 

Going to the Mississippi With a Sick Wife, Who Keeps 
Up Her Courage and Makes Brave Effort to Re¬ 
gain Health—Warm Friends Welcome and Care 
for Us Both—My First Experience in Raising 
Debt on Church—Great Success—After Four 
Years of Enjoyable Labor, Accept a Call to New 
Orleans. 

After the evening with the signal meteor in 
Shelburne Falls, Mass., my whole life seemed to 
be reinforced. Doubt and fear let go and a di¬ 
vine courage possessed me. All the pleadings of 
friends against the venture braced me. The ad¬ 
vice of our physician, Dr. C. E. Severence, that 
it might be the saving of my wife, was the only 
earthly influence in favor. “What can you do 
with her among strangers, even if she survives the 
journey?” asked parties most interested. “She’ll 
die on the way!” 

We were delayed a few days by the promise of 
the superintendent of the new railroad to bring 
up a passenger car from Greenfield to save the 
stage ride that all of us thought dangerous. A 
bed was made to fit between two seats for the long 


236 


GEORGE H. DEERE 


journey, and friends saw us off to Greenfield in 
that first passenger car over the road. 

Louie was cheerfully resigned—“with a heart for 
any fate,” and happy in a hopeful forelook to take 
her share of the responsibility. 

Our first halting place was at Danbury with 
her mother and sister Mary, then married to Wil¬ 
liam Mansfield. She was carried on a bed from 
the car and laid in bed for a week before we re¬ 
newed the journey. Not caring to assume the re¬ 
sponsibility alone, I submitted the following prop¬ 
osition to all parties concerned: If Louie will 
stay in Danbury until fully able to travel I will 
go on alone and send her all my income over my 
personal expenses. Against this Louie protested, 
declaring her determination to go on with me and 
take all chances, to which every one said amen. 
So in good spirits and hopeful, we started on for 
New York city, with bed, blankets and pillow and 
lunch basket, receiving nothing but kindness from 
conductors, and train men who seemed to take in 
the situation at a glance and cheerfully carried 
the invalid from car to platform, or platform to 
car. Was it the Masonic pin, the three links of 
an Odd Fellow, or the pale, winsome face of the 
prostrate traveler that smoothed the roughness 
and relaxed' the stern features of all, and removed 
mountains and filled valleys to a level for our 
passage? God knows, but certainly all this was 
done. 

There was no Pullman in use then except be- 


LA CROSSE 


237 


tween Rochester and Chicago, yet save some rough 
men on the night train between New York and 
Albany, all went well on our way to Rochester. 
Here we arrived at three o’clock on Christmas 
morning, and Louie was carried on her bed to 
the depot hotel to wait the nine o’clock daily train 
to Chicago and the stateroom that had been en¬ 
gaged by Colonel Greenleaf. 

After breakfast Colonel Greenleaf called with 
Mrs. Sargent, and found Louie in such condition 
that they summoned a physician, who insisted on 
a stop-over for at least a day. We did not intend 
this, but were carried by force of love to the Sar^ 
gents’ hospitable home where every want was 
generously supplied and old friends met us. 
Louie was put to bed until the day following, 
when we were made comfortable in a Pullman 
stateroom for Chicago. This stop-over did Louie 
a world of good and our hearts overflow with 
gratitude whenever we think of it. 

From Chicago to LaCrosse was in a common 
car again, with her bed between two seats. The 
brakeman, a kind-hearted fellow, fixed her bed in 
place, stood looking at us a while in silence, then 
said solemnly: “A good many come over the road 
this way, but they mostly go back in a box!” In 
cheerful good humor, Louie replied: “Oh, that’s 
not what’s the matter with me!” She had become 
used to quite a variety of commiserating com¬ 
ments, and was always courageous. 

• A night’s ride brought us to LaCrosse about ten 
o’clock in the morning of Saturday, December 


238 


GEORGE H. DEERE 


29, 1867, and Brother E. A. Tenney, husband of a 
sister of Dr. A. A. Miner of Boston, was on hand 
with his carriage to meet us. He bore Louie in 
his arms from the car, thinking, as he told us long 
after: “Poor woman! We’ve nothing in La 
Crosse but a grave for you!” We were taken di¬ 
rectly to our first boarding place with Mrs. H. S. 
Rogers, on the corner of Cass and Seventh streets, 
diagonally opposite the church, where Tenney 
laid Louie in her bed, “white,” he said, “as if 
already a corpse!” Dr. Chamberlain was soon 
there in charge of her. My diary was shamefully 
neglected in those busy days, but January 1, 
1868 I record: 

“Have been in LaCrosse since last Saturday. 
Preached as pastor of the First Universalist 
Christian Society last Sunday for the first time.” 

I can only outline summarily our life and work 
in LaCrosse. 

First, the society was in a hot quarrel 
with its retiring pastor, S. C. B., and for¬ 
tunately united against him. There was blame, 
of course, on both sides, but the society had 
what might be called the better side of the 
difference. The minister threatened to bring 
charges against the society before the au¬ 
thorities of the state convention. I knew the 
man well in the East and told the LaCrosse peo¬ 
ple to stop talking and they would hear no more 
from him. I wrote him a kind and friendly let¬ 
ter of advice, and the people knowing only that 
we were in correspondence, lost their fears and 


LA CROSSE 


239 


stopped their efforts to get ready to meet him in 
a fight before the convention. The fire was ex¬ 
tinguished but the reputation of our church in 
the community was badly damaged. This we re¬ 
paired, and when we closed our work the society 
was respected and held the confidence of the city. 

Second, the society we found in debt some¬ 
thing over $5,000, a debt incurred in building the 
church which stood yet unfinished, with an un¬ 
sightly skeleton of a steeple built up one story. 
Hon. C. C. Washburn held a note against the par¬ 
ish for about half the amount, and was endorser 
I think, for the balance. In 1870 a desperate ef¬ 
fort was made for freedom from this incubus. 
The society was exhausted by the struggle and 
gave it up with about half of it paid, Washburn’s 
note was overdue and everybody had the “blues” 
over the situation. 

I had had no experience in the business manage¬ 
ment of a society; had never attempted to raise 
money except to co-operate at arms’ length in 
methods engineered by church authorities, but the 
Rev. Mr. Smith, a Presbyterian minister in La 
Crosse, had organized, raised money and built a 
church. Can’t I collect enough to pay off a debt of 
$2,000 or $3,000 ? I have friends outside. This Pres¬ 
byterian minister had begged from everybody in 
LaCrosse, my people not excepted. Can’t I do the 
same? Hon. C. C. Washburn afterwards U. S. 
senator, and Governor of Wisconsin, was presi¬ 
dent of the society. 

I first made a list of the rich men I knew per- 


240 


GEORGE H. DEERE . 


sonally not connected with the society. Of the 
society I interviewed Mr. Washburn alone. “Mr. 
Washburn, I’m going to gather money enough 
to pay our church debt. How much will it take 
to redeem your note?” “Well, that is good, and 
looks like business.” He then took a pencil 
and bit of paper and sat figuring awhile, then 
wheeled around in his chair and said: “The 

note with interest to date is-. Well, I’ll 

deduct $800 if it is all paid.” “All right, thank 
you! That is a good start. I’ll deposit in the 
bank to the credit of the society as fast as I col¬ 
lect. Mr. Tenny will call for the note when there 
is enough in. I’m going outside, Mr. W.; our own 
people have been heavily taxed in doing what 
they have done. I’ll let them rest a while.” 

I then hunted for the first man on my list and 
maybe failed to find him, but ran across another; 
got him by the bottonhole. “Mr. A., my church 
is in debt. I’ve undertaken to raise money to pay 
it. How much will you give on condition that 
the whole is paid off ? ” “ Let me see your paper. ’ ’ 
“No, I show nothing. The question is how much 
will you give to help us if I raise the whole? I 
shan’t stop until it’s all in the bank. ’ ’ A very few 
declined. Some named a time for answer, but 
most would laugh, and say: “That’s odd; put 
me down for so much.” “Mr. A., can’t you give 
me a check and save me trouble ? I promise to re¬ 
turn it if I don’t succeed.” Another laugh and 
some jocose comment and a check. I went into 
stores, offices, workshops, and must I confess it, 



LA CROSSE 


241 


two or three times into saloons to find my man in 
this lumbering center and steamboating town of 
the upper Mississippi. I became a well known 
figure standing on the corners of Main street 
waiting for hours the appearance <?f the one 
looked for. To make a long story short, I had in 
bank a couple of weeks more than enough to 
pay Washburn, all from the outside. 

I then called on Brother Tenney who was very 
busy in his hardware store, and said: “I want 
you, as secretary of this society, to redeem, Mr. 
W’s. note immediately.” He turned and looked 
at me in astonishment, saying: “What do you 
mean? Where is the money?” “The money is 
in the bank.” “You don’t mean—” “Yes, 1 
do; go at once! ’ ’ He began to whistle, and then 
with a “Well, well, in the bank!” he started, 
stopping our folks on the street as he went, to 
tell them the news and exchange congratulations, 
as he made his way shine with happy faces. Mr. 
W. gave him the note in exchange, for a check for 
nine hundred dollars. I do not know, if I ever 
did, the exact amount due, but it was paid, and 
the people were very, very happy. Then I said: 
“We must not stop here, but go on and buy an 
organ, put in gas, and send something to the gen¬ 
eral convention for the centenary Murray fund.. 
I’ll keep on begging money till it is all done.” 

Everybody said all right; we’ll back you up;, 
go ahead. 

I faced ’round toward my own people and 
asked each: ‘ ‘ What will you give ? ’ ’ For several 


17 


242 


GEORGE H. DEERE 


months into the year of 1871, I kept at the work 
until, according to my diary, we had sent two hun¬ 
dred dollars to the Murray fund, put gas into 
the church, a furnace, inside blinds, a new organ 
and had the church frescoed and amply insured. 

(Note, by Mrs. Deere)—During our stay in La 
Crosse the doctor gave courses of evening lec¬ 
tures, one of which was on'“Social Evils,” which 
included “Lying, Virus of Envy, and Pro¬ 
fanity.” The latter he made of very practical 
worth as he had in his large congregation thirty- 
six young men, regular attendants, occupying six 
pews directly in front of the pulpit. He asked 
at the close of this lecture on “Profanity,” if 
those who were addicted to this habit, perhaps un¬ 
conscious of the extent, to take a sheet of paper 
and for one week record every oath, and at the 
end of the week come to his study and report. 
Among those who profited by this was a young 
man who presented himself with a sheet full, hor¬ 
rified at the number and the language. He kept 
this up for several weeks, each week showing im¬ 
provement, until a blank sheet was evidence of 
his victory. This young man is now occupying 
one of the highest positions in railroad work in 
Chicago. Dr. has met in later years in different 
places, several of these young men now battling 
with the world, one of them in Riverside. 


CHAPTER XXVII 

ENROUTE TO THE 'CRESCENT CITY. 

New Orleans—It Seems Quite Like a Foreign City — 
Southern People Warm Hearted—Met Many at St. 
Charles Hotel — Church Unique — Like Campa¬ 
nile — Louie Took Occasion to Test Power of 
Yellow Fever — Did Not Yield to Its Powers Nor 
Bequeath It to Me. 

In June of 1871, in the midst of the enthusiasm 
resulting from the success of my little experiment 
in money raising, which surprised and elated me 
as well as the people, I received a letter from Rev. 
W. T. Stowe of Charlestown, Mass., who had spent 
a couple of years as one of my successors in Brat- 
tleboro, Yt., and one or two years as pastor of 
Theodore Clapp’s Society in New Orleans, La., 
the purport of which was that he had recommend¬ 
ed me as the man to fill the vacancy he had left 
in the Crescent City. With very complimentary 
words he urged me to accept if an invitation 
should be given. The “call” soon followed, but 
couched in such phrases as to the sort of 
a minister wanted that my whole nature revolted, 
though the salary offered was $4,500 a year. I 
wrote a reply which I supposed would lock the 
door against me and end the correspondence. 
The reply ran in substance: “I was fairly rep¬ 
resented by the stars and stripes in the late war; 


244 


GEORGE H. DEERE 


had been anti-slavery before the war; and was 
extremely jealous of my pulpit freedom; that I 
could make no promises whatever concerning 
the matters to be introduced into the pulpit, but 
if, with this distinct understanding I was still 
wanted, I must be left Scott free. 

We spent our August vacation with Uncle 
John Deere and cousins at Moline, Ill., as several 
others while at LaCrosse had been delightfully 
spent. On our return we were surprised to find 
waiting us a letter and a telegram from J. M. 
Gould of New Orleans, La. 

Mr. Gould was a New England wholesale boot 
and shoe dealer residing in New Orleans, and 
treasurer and representative of Theodore Clapp’s 
old parish, whose first letter I had answered so 
unfavorably. The letter we found waiting re¬ 
newed the call and urged its acceptance. It was- 
so frank and generous in matter and spirit that 
the diary says, August 29, 1871: “ Accepted call 
to New Orleans,” and same date: “Handed my 
resignation to trustees. ” The telegram from Mr. 
Gould warned us against heeding current reports 
about yellow fever. 

It was a busy and trying month in which we 
cut ourselves free from friends in this pleasant 
home, and bound up the bleeding arteries. But 
final adieus were at last said and we started down 
the river in the Jennie Baldwin on the 27th of 
September. The temptation is almost irresistible 
to give in detail the story of that month of part¬ 
ings, and the long, eventful trip to the last great 


ENROUTE TO THE CRESCENT CITY 245 


city on the great river so memorable in the his¬ 
tory of our country. One incident, however, 
must not be omitted from the water way part of 
the journey, as it relates to the accumulating 
knowledge of the occult. 

The diary for September 24, 1871, says: “Fare¬ 
well sermon at LaCrosse; crowded house; cane 
presented by Sunday school. ’ ’ 

The next Wednesday, the 27th, having chosen 
the river route instead of the railroad by way of 
Chicago, the “Jennie Baldwin,” the first steamer 
bound down, arrived from St. Paul. The river 
was so low we had waited since Sunday the 
whistle of a “White Collar” boat, which relieved 
our impatience about noon. Settled in our state¬ 
room, friends came and went until long after 
dark, repeating their goodbyes and adding to 
their good wishes and gifts, and still we hung 
to the wharf, and nobody seemed to know when 
the lines would be cast off, and “maybe not until 
morning,” was whispered. So by ten o’clock we 
found ourselves alone, and in half an hour were 
in motion, with a singular feeling of loneliness as 
we slipped from the wharf without a word or the 
flutter of a handkerchief. We had parted with 
everybody we knew, north, east or west, and were 
going among entire strangers, not expecting to 
see a face we had ever seen before, and all known 
as Unitarians, and as pastor of a Unitarian 
church, myself to be called a Unitarian! When 
I thought of some Unitarians whom I knew, I 
was at rest; but when of others—Oh, no! How 


246 


GEORGE EI. DEERE 


will my relations to my own denomination be 
affected? Denominationally, I am a Universalist. 
Such were my meditations as the little steamer 
plowed its way down the river. With a resolu¬ 
tion to submit the case to Dr. A. A. Miner of Bos¬ 
ton, and be faithful to my bond with New Or¬ 
leans, I fell asleep. 

The next day, wide awake in the upper berth 
of our stateroom, Louie on the floor arranging 
things in our trunk, I had a flash of consciousness 
that made me oblivious of environment, and ap¬ 
pear to myself as if standing in the center aisle 
of a strange building a few yards from 
the front entrance. It was like nothing I 
had ever seen with either physical or men¬ 
tal sight, and the consciousness in me made 
me say to mj^self: “This is my church. 7 ’ 
The enclosed space seemed to be circular 
with slender columns supporting a wide in¬ 
ner dome with high-up stained glass windows, 
circular pews facing a deep, broad channel oppo¬ 
site a corresponding gallery over the entrance. 

Of Mr. Clapp’s church I knew absolutely noth¬ 
ing, but if it was ever in mind as an object of 
thought, as is not at all unlikely, it must have 
been conceived as the conventional New England 
oblong parallelogram box with a gallery all 
round, and sky pointing steeple. 

I say it was a flash of consciousness, for it seem¬ 
ed but an instant of wide awake oblivion to en¬ 
vironment when I was aware of the noises of the 
moving steamer, and the voice of Louie bend- 


EM ROUTE TO THE CRESCENT CITY 247 

mg over the trunk. I spoke to her. “Louie,” I 
said, “I have seen the inside of our church in New 
Orleans,” and described it to her. 

This bit of experience made a deep impression 
and encouraged me greatly, though the rapidly 
changing and exciting occurrences pushed it out 
of mind very soon, and I find no mention of it in 
the diary, from which I am quoting about every 
item of the little I do find. I record that “at ten 
o’clock p. m. we were in sight of Dubuque,” and 
“lay at Dunleith till 1:30 a. m.,” and “to bed in 
Julian house, about 2 a. m.” Next day, Friday, 
the 29th, “Took cars for Cairo at 1 o’clock. Saw 
Galena with Grant in it,” though we did not see 
Grant. 

Saturday, September 30: “Dust! Dust! We 
reached Cairo at 3:30 p. m. On board the John 
Kyle, expecting to leave at 5.” At Cairo the re¬ 
port was afloat, spread by people fleeing from the 
South, that yellow fever was epidemic in New 
Orleans. ‘ ‘ Met Mrs. Day of LaCrosse on her way 
with her family north.” She urged us in a panic- 
stricken voice to turn back. But we trusted in 
Providence and our unknown friend’s telegram 
received in LaCrosse, and waited in the bridal 
stateroom of the John Kyle her delayed move¬ 
ment down the river. 

Expecting to start any minute, we were held 
by fallacious promises at Cairo several days, and 
at last were compelled to leave the boat at Mem¬ 
phis and take to the rail in order to meet engage¬ 
ment at New Orleans. Here we registered at the 


248 


GEORGE H. DEERE 


• St. Charles hotel at sundown, October 6, 1871. 

Had we decided to go from LaCrosse by rail 
as first planned, we could have spent some time 
in Chicago and Moline and have reached our des¬ 
tination about the middle of the month. Whether 
we should have escaped the great fire is very un¬ 
certain. 

The next day, Saturday forenoon, callers began 
to come. First of all was my correspondent, the 
genial and ever faithful J. M. Gould, and his 
wife. We arranged for a visit in the afternoon 
to the church a few blocks away, on the corner 
of St. Charles and Julia streets. Mr. Gould came 
. for us soon after lunch and we walked to the 
church, Louie and Mr. Gould leading. When we 
stood where I thought I stood in the vision, Louie 
turned and looked at me, saying: “Your descrip¬ 
tion was perfect, George. ” 

Of this story Louie now says that she “has no 
remembrance, though she has heard me tell it 
often. ” She was using all her energy at the time 
she says, to keep Mr. Gould from inoculating my 
mind with his fears and anxiety about my first 
sermon. She was begging him not to say a word 
to me about it, but to let me entirely alone, and 
it would be all right. 

Louie was very wise in this, and doubtless I 
was saved an excess of anxiety which might have 
reversed the verdict pronounced upon the ser¬ 
mon of the next day. The occasion was a trying 
one, but T knew what I wanted to say and had no 
fear. 


ENROUTE TO THE CRESCENT CITY 249 


The building was an octagon, the central space 
of which was covered with an octagonal dome, 
supported at the angles by slender fluted columns 
arched between each other, giving a Moorish ef¬ 
fect. Light from above through stained glass 
relieved the people far below from almost total 
darkness. I quietly studied the acoustics that 
Saturday afternoon and decided how I should 
have to use my voice to make myself intelligible. 
Afterwards I learned that the pulpit had to be 
pushed to the very edge of the deep chancel and 
again built out into the center for Mr. Clapp, and 
then he failed to make himself intelligible in his 
beautiful new church. I have no doubt this broke 
him down more rapidly than old age. It was 
more suited to old world priestly uses in high 
church intoned services than for preaching. No 
hint of this was given, but fortunately in the hour 
I begged to be left alone in the church that after¬ 
noon I found out that each word must be dis¬ 
tinctly spoken and given time to get out of the 
way of the one to follow, or they would crowd on 
each other and be lost in blended sound. The 
words chosen as a text for my first sermon were 
St. Paul’s to the Corinthians: “Not that we have 
dominion over your faith, but are helpers of your 
joy. ”—2 Cor. 1:24. 

The memory of that crucial service is very 
sweet to me, all were so well satisfied and demon¬ 
strative in their happiness. Mr. Gould, relieved 
of his anxiety, was radiant. All hearts were open 
to us and received us with warm welcome, and 


250 


GEORGE H. DEERE 


the wholeness of a Southern welcome is not to 
be despised. 

The next day, Monday, October 9, the diary 
says: “Came to J. Q. A. Fellows’ to board, at a 
hundred and twenty-five dollars a month.’’ St. 
Charles street from Tivoli circle, ran out of the 
city proper as St. Charles avenue, into Carrollton 
six miles away, traversed by horse cars. Half 
way out, Mr. Fellows owned two blocks, one of 
which, enclosed by a very high iron fence, faced 
on St. Charles avenue. The block in the rear 
furnished a corral for a cow, chickens, turkeys 
and geese, and a well stocked garden. Well back 
in the home block stood the large colonial house 
fronted by massive columns and surrounded by 
the orange and lofty live oak; trees with rose and 
other ornamental shrubbery. The appointments 
and furnishings of the establishment were royal. 
The bell rung at the gate summoned the 
porter for all callers, and three immense mastiffs 
looked after the safety of the whole place. 

John Quincy Adams Fellows was a prominent 
lawyer of the city, a native of Vermont, and an 
original Universalist, who came to New Orleans 
some years before the war. He was Myra Clark 
Gaines’ lawyer in her contest for property inter¬ 
ests in the city. He represented Governor Kel¬ 
logg’s cases in the courts. A high up Mason, 
holding office at the head of the order in the 
United States, he was the only American admit¬ 
ted to the charter membership of a new degree 


ENROUTE TO THE CRESCENT CITY 251 

of which Prince Edward of Wales, of England, 
now king, was a new member. 

Mrs. Fellows was a native of Vermont, and 
taught in the public schools of the city before 
the war as Miss Mills. She was a strong, force¬ 
ful woman, tactful and ambitious. Her brother 
was a partner with her husband in the law busi¬ 
ness. One child, a bright boy, and an adopted 
daughter, made up the family, with servants, 
formerly slaves, to do the work and maintain the 
dignity of the house. 

We were added to the family as guests, and 
were not to be recognized as boarders—a distinc¬ 
tion not uncommon among polite people of the 
city in those days. 

The first service out of the pulpit called for 
was the funeral of Mrs. Waldo, wife of a brother 
of Rev. J. C. Waldo of our church, to whose place 
of business the Rev. Mr. Clapp was accustomed 
to resort on Monday forenoons to read Mr. Wal¬ 
do’s copy of the Universalist “Trumpet,” pub¬ 
lished in Boston by the stalwart Thomas Whitte- 
more. It is more than suspected that he derived 
most of his inspiration of Universalist thought 
from this source before his renunciation of end¬ 
less punishment in the Presbyterian pulpit. Cer¬ 
tain it is that his consolatory ministry was char¬ 
acterized more by the good news of our faith 
than by the doubtful eschatology of the Unitarian 
church of that day. 

I was shocked one day at being told that the 
trustees had decided to add another five thou- 


252 


GEORGE H. DEERE 


sand dollars to the twenty-five thousand already 
mortgaged on their church. This debt had been 
incurred, I was told, to pay current expenses in 
other years. I sent word to the trustees that if 
they added a dollar to the debt I would resign. 
They sent for me to meet them and explain. They 
told me they had to raise money to pay last year’s 
deficiency and make up enough to pay my first 
year. “Gentlemen,” said I, “you may depend 
upon the word I sent you. You shall not add to 
the church debt on my account.” “But what 
can we do,?” “Do as we do in the North. Circu¬ 
late a subscription paper. Draw, it up now; sign 
it first yourselves, then each in turn get his 
friends to sign it. If enough is subscribed I’ll 
stay. If not, I go! I ’ll not stay and eat a dollar 
of the church.” 

The trustees were surprised and silent for a 
few minutes, then after discussing the new meth¬ 
od, drew up the paper, signed, and planned to try 
the Yankee way of doing church business. In a 
couple of weeks all interested were happy in learn¬ 
ing that the subscription added to pew rents, can¬ 
celled arrearages and secured enough to pay the 
current expenses for my first year, amounting 
to over six thousand dollars. 

Hitherto, the aristocratic Southern way seemed 
to have been to hunt the treasurer if you wanted 
a seat, and if you could find him, make your se¬ 
lection and pay down your money. Anything 
less than a hundred dollars appeared too little 
to be bothered with. All this was changed and 


BN ROUTE TO 1 HE CRESCENT CITY 253 

the thought of the people was turned to study 
how to reduce the debt. 

But one sermon was demanded by the society, 
and that on Sunday morning. Our organist, Prof. 
Cripps, had served under Theo-. Clapp for many 
years in the old church, and was paid twelve 
hundred a year. Our singers were well trained 
members of the congregation who would have 
deemed it disgraceful to receive pay, and in 
whose absence others from the congregation 
could be called to supply vacancies by the organ¬ 
ist who had charge. 

And Altama, our superb janitor and gentle¬ 
manly usher, had served his master, General Pope, 
in the war as “body servant,” and sincerely 
mourned when he fell. His pride in the. part he 
had borne in life gave wonderful dignity to his 
handsome personality and graciousness of man¬ 
ner that saved from condescension. 

He had three hundred a year for his services 
and the leavings of the communion table, for 
which a gallon of port was called for monthly. 

Our three years’ stay was one of 'great satis¬ 
faction. The people, although differing .polit¬ 
ically, were devoted friends of ours, and deeply 
interested in the church. The first year we were 
there the Sunday school had a May party costing 
$75. We were aghast at the expense and sug¬ 
gested to them that it would be expedient to let 
the Sunday school bring money into the treas¬ 
ury, and accordingly commenced working up an 
entertainment for Christmas. We found abund- 


254 


GEORGE H. DEERE 


ant material, both in speaking and singing, and 
engineered it all ourselves, except the singing, 
which Laura Edwards very generously managed, 
her own brother and sisters adding greatly to the 
success. Our people were in the dark as to the 
possibilities of the proposed Northern notions, 
but had faith enough in us and our vigorous work 
to take tickets. It was an unqualified success and 
brought three hundred dollars into the Sunday 
school fund and an earnest desire to have it re¬ 
peated. But we deferred it till another time. 

In the autumn of 1873 when we returned from 
the North, we obeyed the Creole custom of call¬ 
ing upon our friends instead of waiting for them 
to call upon us. The warm, Southern welcome 
everywhere greeting us made our hearts glow 
and freed us from fear of the terror of yellow 
fever. Just two weeks from the day we arrived 
Louie was stricken with the disease, although for¬ 
tunately she did not know it, supposing it to be 
the “dengue,” or broken-bone fever. For five 
days she lay in one position in a profuse sweat, 
sleepless, a‘ raging fever eating her dear life 
away. Our physician was equal to the emer- 
gency, ably seconded by a faithful nurse, who 
watched night and day. The fifth day the fever 
reached its climax and the dear one seemed drift¬ 
ing out of our life, and until the ninth day we 
were anxiously waiting the end. After that re¬ 
covery was assured, although slow. One month 
later found us both at work and happy. Our peo¬ 
ple were so delighted that we had passed through 


ENROUTE TO THE CRESCENT CITY 255 

the scourge so well and as they expressed it, “You 
are a Creole now.” 

The family of Edwards, consisting of a widow 
and eight children, all of whom were bright, 
active workers in the church, made a pleasant 
home for us for one year. The other two years 
were equally enjoyable, first in the house which 
was occupied by B. F. Butler during his resi¬ 
dence in the city, diagonally opposite the 
church, on St. Charles and Julia, six blocks from 
Canal street, making it convenient for me to 
have my study there. Our room was on the 
front corner, the ceiling twenty-one feet high, 
one of the airiest and most comfortable, opening 
upon the front gallery, where the cool, evening 
breezes enticed us. The house had the most de¬ 
lightful guests, who although natives, were so 
thoroughly refined and courteous as to never 
allow a word to escape which could cause 
us offense or unpleasant feeling. Mrs. McFar- 
lane, the proprietress, was one of the loveliest 
characters we ever met, and we parted from 
her with heart-felt sorrow. The last Sunday we 
spent there she was at our church, and although 
she was a Presbyterian, stayed to communion. 
Coming out of church Louie said to her: “It 
was very sweet of you to stay to communion.” 
“Don’t you know you and Brother Deere seem 
like my own minister’s folks.” 

Some one may ask why we did not return tc 
New Orleans, the conditions seeming so desira¬ 
ble. In brief, I did not intend to return unless 


256 


GEORGE H. DEERE 


successful in my attempt with the convention. 
That failing, my inclination was to remain north. 
My resignation, which was placed in the hands 
of the secretary on our departure, had been re¬ 
turned to me with the request that I reconsider 
it and continue my work in New Orleans, but 
lacking faith in the present appearance of unity 
existing between opposing parties depending 
upon my personal influence, we deemed it best 
not to return. 

In the meantime, Louie’s health, which had 
slowly but steadily' improved during our stay 
in LaCrosse, had been benefited by the winters 
in New Orleans, and the terrible siege of yellow 
fever proved a blessing in its general effect on her 
system. 




























































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* 






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* 



* 




\ r : 






MRS. GEORGE H. DEERE 




CHAPTER XXVIII 


LEAVING NEW ORLEANS. 

Accepting the Second Invitation to Rochester, Minn., 
Where We Went December, 1874, and Had a Most 
Delightful Time for Eight Years, Building a Fine 
Brick Church and Adding Large Numbers to the 
Church Fold — Celebrated Silver Wedding, Leav¬ 
ing in 1881 for Missionary Work in Southern Cali¬ 
fornia. 


MRS. DEERE’S PART. 

In explanation of my taking np the work at 
this point, I will simply say that the doctor had 
progressed at intervals with his pleasant work, 
until the complete shutting out of his sight pro¬ 
hibited any more writing, and as he never was 
accustomed to dictation, it seems as if it were 
at one time doomed to entire suspension. 

Fortunately, the period relating to his early 
life, with which no one was familiar but himself, 
was completed, and much besides, leaving only 
the years of Rochester and Riverside to be covered 
by less able hands, and as we had lived more 
than half a century of life together so closely,, 
he was very urgent that I should fill out the re¬ 
mainder of the pages. It was with the feeling 
that he should not be deprived of the satisfac- 


18 


258 


GEORGE H. DEERE 


tion of knowing his work was finished that 1 
consented, and as I had saved during these years 
many newspaper clippings relating to him and 
his work I was the better enabled to comply with 
his wishes, and this labor of love, imperfect as it 
may be, I am happy to unite with his. 

In the month of July, 1874, while we were 
packing in joyous anticipation of being in Dan¬ 
bury with our mother and sister in one week, a 
telegram came announcing the death of Mother 
Downing, who passed away suddenly and very 
peacefully, aged 67 years, twenty years after the 
departure of her husband. The shock prostrated 
me for a few days, but the necessity of getting 
away from the heat, and getting a rest from the 
strain of the winter with the yellow fever epi¬ 
sode, quickened our work and we were soon in 
New England where we remained all summer, 
the doctor accepting calls to supply pulpits. 

In September the United States convention 
met in New York city in Dr. Chapin’s church, 
a largely attended and interesting convention. 
Dr. Chapin himself, although not in the vigor of 
his youth, was a conspicuous figure, especially 
one day when at high noon he united Phineas 
T. Barnum in marriage to a bright young Eng¬ 
lish girl. 

The days proving rainy, we nearly all ad¬ 
journed to a cafe on Sixth avenue for lunch, one 
block from the church, giving us a season of re¬ 
union each day. A great disappointment awaited 
us at the convention. We had been led to expect 


LEAVING NEW ORLEANS 


259 


by Rev. R. H. Pullman, then the general secre¬ 
tary of the convention, that $25,000 would be 
placed in the hands of the Church of the Mes¬ 
siah of New Orleans to redeem it from its accu¬ 
mulated debt of years, upon which they would 
become distinctively Universalist. But it was 
found impossible to do this and the society re¬ 
tained its old name, Unitarian. 

We remained in Danbury until December, 
when the atmospheric conditions sounded the 
note of alarm of bronchial trouble and induced 
us to accept a call to Rochester, Minn., accom¬ 
panied as it was by the assurance that several 
families from the Episcopal church, among 
whom were our old family physician from Brat- 
tleboro, Yt., and Brother Drs. E. C. and E. W. 
Cross, the Leets and Kelloggs, would join us in 
the new society. 

December, 1874, found us in our new home, 
where, although the thermometer indicated 
sometimes 40 degrees below zero, the hearts of 
the people .showed up in the 90 ’s. This was our 
happy home for seven years, where we built a 
beautiful brick church and installed in it a fine 
pipe organ, which to this day is said to be the 
best in the city. In addition to the church build¬ 
ing, the work of building the spiritual life was 
ouickened to an entirely unexpected extent, over 
o.ne hundred uniting with the church. - 

When we went to Rochester the little old 
chapel which had been sufficient for use for all 
the. previous years, proved quite inadequate for 


260 


GEORGE H. DEERE 


the crowds which extended to the doors, and Dr. 
Cross very facetiously said: “We will soon bust 
the Tabernacle and be obliged to build.” Our 
chief workers, most of them the new members, 
began planning for a new church, raising large 
sums for that purpose. About this time, the sec¬ 
ond year of our stay, we had an urgent call to 
Grand Rapids, Mich., and were quite inclined to 
accept the tempting offer, but after considering 
it for a week, decided that Grand Rapids could 
easily secure a worthy minister, while Rochester, 
so our people persisted in saying, could only pros¬ 
per under our leadership, and they were all ready 
to begin the work of building a twenty-thousand 
dollar church, if we stayed. 

Aaron M. Ozmun, Alfred D. Leet and C. H. 
Kellogg, our building committee, a most faith¬ 
ful board, were untiring in their efforts and ac¬ 
complished the wonderful feat of bringing the 
actual expense within $200 of the estimated cost. 

At the home of our dear friends, Mr. and Mrs. 
A. D. Leet, our society made our twenty-fifth 
wedding anniversary, December 24, 1875, a most 
delightful occasion. It was a rainy evening, yet 
the house was packed, and all contributed their 
share to the enjoyment of the evening. Although 
we had given out word through the press, and 
from the pulpit, that there were to be no pres¬ 
ents, when we returned to our rooms in the hotel, 
ihe landlord skipped lightly up the stairs, light¬ 
ing the gas, displaying to our astonished eyes 
silver in quantity and a Turkish chair for the 















CHURCH AT ROCHESTER , MINNESOTA 
Built by Dr. George H. Deere 























LEA VING NE W ORLEANS 


261 


“Deere” pastor, with a note saying that when the 
enjoyment of the evening had subsided, these 
more substantial tokens of love would serve to 
remind us of our friends. The next night, after 
the Sunday school celebration in the church, (a 
pronounced success), we returned home to find 
another surprise in the form of an extension 
chair for the pastor’s wife, a gift from some who 
had not been privileged to contribute to the first, 
and expressing a hope that during the frequent 
sick headaches she had, she would find it a place 
of comfort. That chair is in California today. 

The church was dedicated during the session 
of the state convention, Dr. W. H. Ryder preach¬ 
ing the sermon. Dr. Tuttle, dear, precious friend 
of many years, took a prominent part, as did 
other ministers. It was a happy day and prom¬ 
ised much for the future, the church and Sunday 
school growing stronger as the years glided by. 
The pastor’s wife was superintendent of the Sun¬ 
day school for six years, the pastor keeping the 
Sunday School up to the highest tension, by the 
very interesting teachers’ meetings which were 
held in his house every week with not a teacher 
absent. In 1880 Mrs. Deere, watching very care¬ 
fully, found her successor in Charles Van Camp- 
en, and after much urging persuaded him to take 
the position. Time proved her judgment correct 
and he served faithfully for years. 

Our summer vacations were spent in Minneap¬ 
olis with the Morrisons and our Deere cousins in 
Moline, Ill., and at John Deere’s, the veteran 


262 


GEORGE H. DEERE 


plow manufacturer, Dr. Deere’s uncle, was a 
favorite home for the summer vacation. Although 
he was a Congregationalist, his delight in the 
hour following the breakfast, was to get his min¬ 
isterial nephew into the drawing room, where, 
Bible in hand, reading and comments followed. 
Uncle would invariably assent to the doctor';- 
explanation, showing his heart was in sympathy 
with our faith. 

Our journey to Moline was down the Missis¬ 
sippi by steamer, then the favorite mode of 
travel, and looked backed upon with great pleas- 
are. 

During one of our visits to Minneapolis with 
the Morrisons, we formed two of a party of 
twenty invited by General Rosser, the engineer 
of the Northern Pacific railroad, to go to what 
was then the terminus, Bismarck, N. D. As the 
road was still in his hands, we had the entire 
right of way, and the parlor, dining and ob¬ 
servation cars never carried a more delighted 
party, as the people in Bismarck must have 
thought when we came in, five of us riding on the 
pilot, which place we had occupied for the last 
fifty miles. The charm of that ride lingers with 
us yet. The birds flew almost in our faces and 
it seemed as if we could take them in our hands. 

Arriving at Bismarck, we left the cars for the 
first time to spend the night in the hotel. The 
next day we filled two Deadwood coaches and 
went to Custer’s camp (Camp Lincoln), where 
his band played “Custer’s Last Charge,” a dirge, 


LEA VING NEW ORLEANS 


263 


composed by the leader of the band. This was 
during the Sitting Bull visit in those parts and 
some of our party confessed to anxious feelings 
while on our coaching tour. 

Among the pleasant incidents connected with 
our life in Rochester are the visits of our old and 
dear friends, Dr. A. A. Miner, Dr. Richard Eddy, 
Dr. Atwood and Charles Caverly, which will 
ever be bright, sunny spots in our memory. The 
frequent and no less enjoyable visits of Doctors 
Tuttle and Hanson, gave an added pleasure to 
the life of arduous work. 

In June of 1878, Dr. Deere, in company with 
Dr. Cross and two other Rochester gentlemen, 
started for a trip to Europe, spending a delight¬ 
ful and profitable four months in England, Ire¬ 
land, Switzerland, Germany, Italy, etc., bring¬ 
ing back mental strength and renewed health. 
His letters were craved by the Rochester papers, 
but as he had only time to write to me, who was 
in the East, it was not convenient to publish 
them. He promised his people a full account of 
bis journey on his return, which was on Novem¬ 
ber 1st. I met him in New York where we spent 
one day visiting my brother/another at Niagara 
Falls, where we kept meeting companions of his 
trip, both foreign and our own countrymen, the 
evidence of good fellowship showing in every in¬ 
stance. Bishop Potter of New York and A. P. 
Peabody of Boston were among the many for 
whom strong friendship resulted from the com¬ 
panionship on shipboard. I leave the description 


264 


GEORGE H. DEERE 


of our arrival home to the pen nf one of our 
townswomen, which is taken from the New Cov¬ 
enant, published in Chicago : 

A HAPPY RECEPTION. 

(Marion Sloan.) 

A most delightful and joyous time was had 
at the parsonage of Grace church, Rochester, 
Minn., week before last, the occasion being the 
return of our pastor, Rev. G. H. Deere, from Eu¬ 
rope, with his wife from the East. The parson¬ 
age was warmed and arranged in its usual beau¬ 
tiful order, even to the house plants by the win¬ 
dow and the clock ticking in its accustomed 
place. A bountiful dinner was spread, it being 
the hour of noon, and all waited for the whistle 
of the train bringing the expected ones. The 
blinds were closed to give the shut-up appear¬ 
ance of an empty house, and several gentlemen 
met them at the depot, and, telling them they 
would find the key of the parsonage in the door, 
left them to drive up alone. 

Mrs. Deere ran up the steps, turned the key, 
when suddenly the door was opened from the 
inside, and she met the eager faces of a house 
full of loving friends. ‘"It’s just like you,” said 
Mr. Deere, as he followed. Soon all collected 
around or near the table, and after a few heart¬ 
felt words of prayer and praise, all did ample 
justice to the skill of the many cooks, and after 


LEA VING NEW ORLEANS 


265 


a social hour or two left the happy but tired 
travelers to the enjoyment of “rest and home.” 

Sunday morning on entering the church, Mr. 
Deere found it profusely decorated, on altar, 
choir, font and table, with bouquets of cut flow* 
ers and house plants in bloom, and the word 
“Welcome,” in open letters of evergreen, in an 
arch back of his chair. Saying simply he could 
not preach his intended sermon under such cir¬ 
cumstances, he gave a very happy and interesting 
talk instead. 

After service the Sunday school assembled as 
usual, with Mrs. Deere again in her place as su¬ 
perintendent, and after the usual opening exer¬ 
cises very unexpectedly Miss Kate Woodworth 
stepped forward and saluted him with the fol¬ 
lowing poem, written for the occasion by Mrs. 
E. Nora Stone: 

From Old Ocean’s waves and billows 

Capped with sparkling white sea foam, 

The grave of many hopes and treasures— 

We bid our Pastor welcome home! 

From Scotia, land of Robert Burns, 

The land o’ the leal and the true, 

From the rocks and glens of “Auld Lang Syne”— 
We warmly, truly welcome you! 

From bonnie England’s wooded hills 
Rising o’er the sylvan vale, 

From the shores of mother-land— 

From our hearts we bid you hail! 

From the vine-clad hills of France, 

With imperial Paris crowned— 

From her wide and world-thronged mart, 

You have here a welcome found. 


266 


GEORGE H. DEERE 


From the castled crags that frown 

“The wide and winding Rhine” above— 
From the heaven-piercing Alps— 

We welcome you with hearts of love! 

From Milan’s grand cathedral spires, 

From Florence’s marble treasure-store, 

Her pictures and her palaces— 

We bid you welcome o'er and o’er! 

From Venice throned on her lagoons— 

Bride of the Adriatic Sea, 

From her prisons and Bridge of Sighs— 

A welcome warm we give to thee! 

From Rome, that sat on her seven hills, 

And ruled the world upon her throne, 
Though fallen, the eternal city still— 

We bid you welcome to your own! 

From Naples with her mountain watch-tower. 
Whose fitful fires forever burn 
Above her bay, in beauty lying— 

Again we welcome your return! 

From all these splendid scenes of earth 

’Mid which your feet have learned to roam. 
To this fair, young and Western land— 

We fondly bid you welcome home! 

Welcome to her fond heart which ever 
In an your wanderings, followed true, 

Her love, the chain, still drawing backward 
Again we welcome her with you! 

Welcome to the church you builded, 

Though no spires or domes arise— 

The offerings of a grateful people 
From itr; altars reach the skies! 

Welcome to your work anew! 

Welcome to deeds of love and trust! 

The blade that’s flashing in the harvest 
Is not the one to dull and rust! 


LEAVING NEW ORLEANS 


267 


Welcome to country, friends and home! 

Welcome, to us our pastor dear 
From hearts all warm with kindly feeling— 

Again we bid you welcome here! 

The poem was recited gracefully and feelingly 
and in response Mr. Deere thanked ns all heart¬ 
ily for himself and wife and said words could 
not express what they felt, and he could not 
think it all personal. It must be meant in behalf 
of the cause and work which he represented, 
which modest estimate of his own worth is one 
of his many virtues. 

We love our pastor and wife, and think them 
just the right people in the right place, and the 
reception and all the following surprises not 
half good enough for their deserts. 

November 7, 1878. 

The summer of 1881 we spent partly in Moline 
and partly in Minneapolis with our friends, the 
Marstons, in conjunction with Dr. Tuttle. On our 
return to Rochester we found our house had been 
entered and about $500 worth of valuables 
taken. The guilty one was found to be a woman 
living in the back yard. Nearly all was recov¬ 
ered. 

Soon after our return Dr. Tuttle received a 
letter from Hon. A. G. Throop, inviting him to be 
his guest in a trip to California. The society of 
Minneapolis said if Dr. Deere would supply his 
pulpit Dr. Tuttle might go. Dr. Deere, feeling 
a desire to make a change, consulted with his 
trustees, asking for the proposed release, request- 


268 


GEORGE H. DEERE 


ing them to secure supplies from those who 
might become their pastor, but they would not 
consider that, and only engaged temporary sup¬ 
plies. We went in September, and with the ex¬ 
ception of the first six weeks, passed a delightful 
winter. 

The first six weeks were filled with sorrow. 
First came the unexpected news of the death of 
our dear friend, Mrs. D. Morrison, in Vienna. 
Her remains were brought back to Minneapolis, 
and laid in the beautiful cemetery on Lake Har¬ 
riet, her namesake. One week from that day our 
sweet young friend, Ida Eastman Loring gave 
up her precious life in giving birth to a darling 
boy, leaving two families and her husband deso¬ 
late and the whole city in tears. 

It seemed as if we could never recover from 
the accumulated grief caused by the loss of these 
two friends, but the work claimed us, and we 
found it soon absorbing us. Our home in the city 
was with Mrs. Caroline Holmes, one of the Wash¬ 
burn family. A more congenial company of 
Universalists it was never our privilege to meet 
than we found here in the “Church of the Re¬ 
deemer.” 

When Dr. Tuttle returned from California he 
brought such glowing glimpses of the places he 
had visited that the desire we had long cher¬ 
ished of visiting that wonderful country became 
intense, increased by the fact that Dr. Deere had 
during the winter been a victim of three colds, 
each of them of three weeks ’ duration. The at- 


LEA VING NEIV ORLEANS 269 

tractiveness of a mild climate appealed to us, 
and when Dr. Tuttle told us of the great desire of 
Riverside to have a minister of our faith come 
to them, the missionary spirit combining with the 
genial climate decided us to break all ties and 
start at once, greatly to the disappointment of 
the Morrisons and others of the Minneapolis 
church, who had formed a plan to keep us work¬ 
ing in the Church of the Redeemer, Dr. Deere 
doing most of the pulpit work and Dr. Tuttle 
and myself the pastoral work. But agreeable as 
this might be, our minds adhered to the Califor¬ 
nia project. 

Accordingly, we returned to Rochester, dis¬ 
posed of our household goods, parted with our 
friends with aching hearts but with a courageous 
spirit we set forth to the new missionary field 
of Southern California, going to St. Paul to take 
the Union Pacific route. Our last glimpse of 
the Universalist ministers of Minnesota was at 
the convention at Austin June, 1881. 


CHAPTER XXIX 


TO THE GOLDEN WEST. 

The Garden of Eden Becomes Our Home for Twenty- 
Six Years—During That Time Celebrated Our 
Golden Wedding—Also Rounding Out the Doctor’s 
Four-Score Years—Building Our Stone Church for 
All Time — A Thing of Beauty and 'Source of En¬ 
joyment to the Whole State—The Doctor’s Work 
in All Progressive Movements—Losing His Sight 
Entirely—Obliged to Give Up the Work He Loves 
and Has Been Engaged in for Fifty Years. 

In our correspondence with friends from River- 
side the literature was very attractive, even go¬ 
ing to the extent of a newspaper cut of a steamer 
plowing its way up the Santa Ana river, a vis¬ 
ion we never saw materialized. Our first sight of 
the river was when we 'crossed it in a buggy, 
the water scarcely wetting the wheels. 

Among the early friends who brightened the 
days with the sunshine of their presence was 
A. S. White. To be in his presence and not re¬ 
alize that Riverside was even then the Paradise 
of this country proved yourself lacking greatly 
in susceptibility to his personal powers of per¬ 
suasion. 

Although of Unitarian antecedents, lie was a 
friend of the Universalist movement from the 


TO THE GOLDEN WEST 


271 


start and when later he moved into the center of 
town was a constant attendant at church, sub¬ 
scribing liberally, forming one of the board of 
trustees. Coming from the city of Brooklyn, he 
brought new ideas in regard to building a city 
in the best manner, and went earnestly to work 
tor the improvement of what he intended to be 
an ideal city. That his work was duly appre¬ 
ciated was evidenced by the fact that one of the 
city’s most beautiful parks was named for him, 
owing its existence and chief attractivenesss to 
his unwearied care. 

One of the attractive features of Riverside was 
the abundance of flowers, principally roses of 
the choicest variety, yards full of tea roses, 
many having 200 kinds, but this did not make 
up to me for the lack of grass. One day Dr. 
Shugart took Dr. Deere and myself to ride, driv¬ 
ing in a yard where a lawn thirty feet square, 
green as an emerald, greeted our astonished 
eyes. I wrote to Dr. Tuttle, saying: “I jumped 
out of the buggy, put my two feet upon it and 
thanked God!” 

Press, 1886:—The lecture Tuesday evening by 
Rev. Geo. H. Deere, at the M. E. church for the 
benefit of the Y. M. C. A. was well attended. “The 
Uses and Abuses of Imagination” were ably dis¬ 
cussed by the learned speaker, who held the undi¬ 
vided attention of the audience for nearly, if not 
quite an hour. The lecture would have to be given 
in full to do the gentleman justice. Mr. Deere is 
a clear and forcible speaker, and as a pulpit or- 


272 


GEORGE H. DEERE 


ator stands second to none in Southern Califor¬ 
nia. His remarks showed evidence of deep 
thought and a cultured mind and all present 
evinced their pleasure by heartily applauding at 
the close of his address. 

The homesickness impossible to control, we 
very effectually concealed, and as the work grew 
it disappeared like the dew before the morning 
sun. Our first home was in the lovely and hos¬ 
pitable family of Dr. and Mrs. K. D. Shugart, 
where we remained two months, just at the edge 
of the mile square. The daughter and husband, 
Mr. and Mrs. L. C. Waite, were our nearest 
neighbors and helped to make it more like home. 
Then we moved to the center of town into two 
rooms, where our friends could come in every 
hour of the day, bringing their choice fruits. The 
Muscat grape, a new delicacy, was the most fre¬ 
quent, and I look back to the rooms meagerly 
furnished, in one corner of which was spread a 
newspaper dotted with paper sacks filled with 
delicious grapes. Mr. White had sixty varieties, 
many of them eastern, but none outranked in my 
mind the muscat. 

We had been in these two rooms a few days 
when on looking out of the window one day the 
coach deposited a familiar figure at the hotel, 
opposite. Seizing the opera glass, I said: “It is, 
it is , 9 ’ our friends from Minneapolis, Mr. and Mrs. 
W. H. Eastman, our first visitors from the world 
we had left. They soon came over to surprise us, 


TO THE GOLDEN WEST 


273 


but found us ready to welcome them in true apos¬ 
tolic manner. 

That winter we had as our companion at the 
hotel table, Helen Hunt, who was here collecting 
material for her “Ramona.” The two weeks of 
her stay she spent all her evenings in our rooms, 
and the many interesting features of her book 
were told us in her inimitable style. After, six 
months of this life, we decided to come down to 
earth, and set out to search for rooms. Soon 
we saw on one of the wide streets (Sev¬ 
enth street) a little cottage embowered in 
pepper, orange, and eucalyptus trees, a yard full 
of roses, one of which, a cloth of gold, clambered 
up into a fig tree, the golden blossoms showing 
to great advantage against the green of the broad 
fig leaves. We found this idyllic retreat was for 
sale, and for a sum suited to our modest purse, 
and before night we had the deed in our pos¬ 
session. The next morning, Sunday, the seller 
was approached by a man and offered $300. Of 
course this was out of the question. He then 
offered us the same; but we had bought for a 
home and next week moved in, remaining there 
four years. 

This was “Cosy Nook Cottage,” so graphically 
described by Dr. Almon Gunnison in his “Ram¬ 
bles Overland.” His coming to us from the 
world we had left was a delight, and in fact,, 
the succession of visitors those first years kept 
our hearts joyous, and made us feel we were in 


19 


274 


GEORGE H. DEERE 


touch with our Universalist world, encouraging 
us to more strenuous work. 

During the second winter, unfortunately a very 
unusually rainy season, the doctor strove to hold 
the little band of liberal believers together, in 
Los Angeles, which had been under the ministry cf 
Dr. Fay till his health broke down and he gave 
up. The friends, Universalists and Unitarians 
were quite sanguine of success, and Dr. Deere 
spent half of every Sunday in Los Angeles until 
the spring, going much of the time over the 
wrecks of bridges, when Dr. Fay appeared on 
the scene claiming the field and Dr. Deere re¬ 
linquished it to him, as his health was breaking 
under the double strain. Mr. Throop was a co¬ 
worker with Dr. Deere, but all our efforts to have 
him buy a lot proved futile. It would have been 
a fortune to the little band of Universalists to¬ 
day and encouraging to the brave and stalwart 
Dr. C. E. Nash, who has come to the coast in time 
to gather the faithful souls who have labored for 
years to get enough together to buy a lot and 
build the church they desire. That his and their 
efforts may be crowned with success is the prayer 
of all the societies and pastors in the state. Los 
Angeles should be prominent in the state, for not 
only one, but several Universalist churches, and 
with Dr. Nash at the head, much may be confi¬ 
dently looked for and expected. 

Uncle John Deere, wanting to come out, 
assisted us in building the house we are 
occupying now, having lived in it twenty- 


DR. AND MRS. GEORGE H. DEERE AT THEIR HOME, RIVERSIDE, CALIFORNIA 




























































1 

































































































- 






























TO THE GOLDEN WEST 


275 


four years. Uncle John and daughter and her 
daughter Emma spent several weeks with us in 
it, eating with us the first meal, as also my nephew 
Charles Mansfield. 

The summer was spent by Dr. Deere in Albany, 
Oregon, where he was obliged to go to recuperate 
and prevent a complete breakdown. Dr. J. H. 
Chapin, who had been with us for a month, per¬ 
suaded our parish to grant the pastor six months 
leave of absence, but the kind feeling mani¬ 
fested was in itself a tonic and he only availed 
himself of two of the allotted months. The 
result was satisfactory, his health restored. My 
nephew having come on from Danbury, Conn., 
to remain with us for a few years, it was neces¬ 
sary for me to remain at home, and when the 
vacation was ended we were engrossed in gath¬ 
ering in the lambs to the fold and planning our 
our new home. 

We had been worshiping in halls and the 
Pavilion, but had purchased one of the first 
school houses built, and which was sold to us 
for $300. As the society was not incorporated 
Dr. Deere assumed the debt incurred and 
enough was raised to remodel it and fit it up 
for worship. A modest but very inviting chapel 
was made of it, costing $1100, all told, which 
with the lot, which was given by Mr. S. C. 
Evans of the Riverside Water Co., sold in 1890 
for $4,000. The church home satisfied all for 
a number of years. The day of dedication we 
all enjoyed making it beautiful. A Presby- 


276 


GEORGE H. DEERE 


terian lady brought a basket three feet long 
filled with the most exquisite 'buds, three and 
four deep. Elihu Washburn, of Galena, was 
with us and he said those flowers could not have 
been duplicated in New York for over a thou¬ 
sand dollars. The choicest of tea roses were 
scattered everywhere on walls and brackets, 
tables and pulpit. 

A few Sundays later over thirty assembled 
at the altar where the pastor, in his usual 
spiritual, uplifting service, received them as 
members of the church. This was the beginning 
of the monthly accessions. 

In this chapel the Universalist State Conven¬ 
tion of California was born, June 1st, 1887. 
President Hon. A. G. Throop, Vice-President Rev. 
G. H. Deere; Secretary, Rev. C. E. Churchill of 
Pomona; Treasurer, S. W. Preble of Santa Ana; 
Trustees, Wm. Finch of Riverside, L. Van Dorn 
of San Bernardino, J. W. Clark of Pomona. 
Preacher of occasional sermon, S. Goodenough of 
Oakland. Rev. E. L. Conger of Pasadena was 
also present and did efficient work. 

While we were in this chapel one Sunday 
morning our hearts were delighted to see Hon. 
and Mrs. Loring of Minneapolis enter the door. 
They had planned a flying trip through Cali¬ 
fornia, giving us two days, but two weeks 
found them still here, and they continued 
coming every winter for many years, staying 
months until the death of our dear Mrs. Loring. 
For several years Mr. Loring went elsewhere 


TO THE GOLDEN WEST 


277 


until in 1897 he came once more with his com¬ 
panion and wife, a friend of many years both 
of himself and the first Mrs. Loring, Mrs. Florence 
Barton Loring. Every winter since has found 
them inmates of the Glenwood and owners of 
some of our most desirable sites for building 
a home. 

These winters were most enjoyable to us both, 
as Uncle John Deere, the Moline Plow manu¬ 
facturer, accompanied by his daughter, Mrs. 
J. Deere Chapman and daughter, Emma Chap¬ 
man, of Moline, Cousin Charles Deere, wife 
and two daughters, were here for a por¬ 
tion of the time, and also Cousin Ellen 
Webber* of Rock Island, with two daughters. 
Cousin Steve Yelie and wife, who was also a 
daughter of John Deere, and her daughter, spent 
some time here. The three sons came at intervals 
of years, thus making us feel we were not so far 
removed from the few relatives we had left. 

Dr. and Mrs. Hanson were our neighbors in 
Pasadena winters, and we anticipated their 
winter coming with great pleasure till the ter¬ 
rible misfortune which took them both from us. 

In the year 1885 Dr. became a member of the 
School Board, which position he held for seven¬ 
teen years, being President all that time. In 
addition he was President of the County Board 
of Education, first in San Bernardino County 
for several years, until Riverside County was 
formed, when he was appointed President of the 
new County. He presented the diplomas of 


278 


GEORGE H. DEERE 


the graduating class of each successive year with 
such remarkable ease and wonderful adaptation 
to the individual that when he resigned his posi¬ 
tion as a member of the School Board, it was dif¬ 
ficult to find some one to take his place. He always, 
even after his resignation from the Board, pro¬ 
nounced the benediction and Miss Fuller, a gradu¬ 
ate of Lombard, and Principal of the High School 
here, for two years has had his name on the pro¬ 
gramme as pronouncing it, although she has 
been very doubtful of his being able to be present. 
But she insists his name shall appear as long as 
he lives. At the same time he was connected with 
the School Board he was President of the Library 
board, from its beginning, selecting the Religious 
and Philosophical works. It w r as during his ad¬ 
ministration that the New Carnegie Library was 
built and furnished and located. Messrs. White 
and Holmes were both valuable assistants in 
the matter of locating as well as caring for the 
best interests of the Library. 

In the spring of 1888 at the June commence¬ 
ment of Lombard University, the honorary de¬ 
gree of D. D. was conferred on Mr. Deere, thus 
making him in reality what he had long been 
called. Dr. Deere. I quote from our Riverside 
paper, the Press: 

“Lombard University of Illinois has conferred 
Lcpon the Rev. George H. Deere of this city the 
degree of doctor of divinity in recognition of his 
long and faithful services in the church and of his 
labors in behalf of humanity. The distinction 


TO THE GOLDEN WEST 


279 


so justly conferred upon the reverend gentleman 
will be as much a source of gratification to his 
man}' friends in Riverside as it is a merited trib¬ 
ute to his eminent abilities, his faithful work and 
his diligence in well-doing. During his six years’ 
residence in Riverside he has won the esteem of 
all by his earnest eloquence in the pulpit, his 
unremitting toil in advancing the cause of Chris¬ 
tianity and by his modest, unassuming manners 
in all the walks of life. Our readers will join 
with us in extending heartiest congratulations 
to the doctor upon his newly-acquired honors. 
May he long wear them in the enjoyment of the 
same esteem and high respect in which he has 
oeen held in the past.” 

The following was written to the Riverside 
Daily Press from San Francisco, in 1888, and 
selected for publication in the Unitarian Monthly 
of Ann Arbor, Michigan, by Rev. Eli Fay, who 
pronounced it the finest tribute to King he ever 
read: 

“My first walk in the streets of San Francisco 
was from the Palace Hotel, in July, 1881. My 
mind was full of memories and thoughts of 
Thomas Starr King. Years before, in New Eng¬ 
land, acquaintance with him had ripened into 
friendship, and my esteem had been enthusiastic 
and reverential. His brief and brilliant Califor¬ 
nia career had excited my warmest admiration, 
and when his life went out, consumed by the 
fires of his patriotism, I was one of the multitude 


280 


GEORGE H. DEERE 


bowed by the wave of sorrow that swept from sea 
to sea. 

“Strolling along aimlessly, I came in front of 
a brown, Gothic church, with ivy grown midway 
to the roof. On the left, a lawn sheltered by the 
church, held an elliptical walk around a hori¬ 
zontal monument bearing the magic name. I 
had found without seeking, the spot which to me 
was the most sacred in the city. The iron gates 
were locked and I could only look upon the 
shrine where I would fain have knelt. Later, 
with my wife, partner in my love for King, who 
came with floral offerings, my heart had its com¬ 
munion and service of memory. My silent friend 
seemed to welcome, comfort and encourage, and 
I grew strong for the work before me 

* ‘ Six years have passed. Mammon now claims 
the space for the use of its daily worshipers. 
The sarcophagus, holding the hallowed dust, 
has gone, and waits in the Masonic cemetery its 
final removal, resting-place and monument. The 
church is, as yet, outwardly unchanged, but with¬ 
in the work of demolition has begun. The organ, 
pews, chancel and altar carving have all disap¬ 
peared. It is now a place for melancholy mus- 
ings, and today, in the twilight’s witching hour, 
T indulged them to the full. I liad found my 
way in, from the now vacant shrine, through a 
side door which chance had left unlocked. 
Standing where King had stood wielding the 
sword of the Spirit, I saw the crowds of the old 
times, faces even looking down from stolen posi- 


TO THE GOLDEN WES7 


281 


tions in the skylight above, and felt the power 
of the ringing voice that polarized the will of 
the State for freedom and the Union. The 
gloomful silence, emptiness and desolation of the 
place vanished and reappeared. I held a final 
responsive service with the echoes, closing with 
thO twenty-third Psalm, the last from the lips 
of the dying preacher.” 

There was this year, 19th of April, 1888, a 
general awakening of patriotic feeling causing 
flags to be flown from all the school houses, each 
one responded to on its presentation by some 
member of the board. The one mentioned here 
was the High School (Grant). 

Rev. Dr. G. H. Deere, President of the School 
Board, responded, speaking substantially as fol¬ 
lows : 

Press, April 19, 1888: 

“Ladies of the Relief Corps:—In behalf of 
the citizens of Riverside I accept the flag with 
many thanks. I know how near your hearts has 
been the purpose to see it floating over all the 
schools of the city, where it shall perpetually 
represent the hope of the nineteenth century. 
All the great and glorious memories of the past 
are clustered around it. 

“ You have chosen the anniversary of the opening 
scene of the Revolution for your patriotic deed. 
From that day history begins to weave the story 
of the stars and stripes. Some would fain have 
us ever look forward and never backward. But 


882 


GEORGE H. DEERE 


the significance of our national banner, and 
the direction of its movement, are determined 
by its record. It takes the past plus the present 
to make the future. The story of the flag is 
not of flashing arms and carnage. It has floated 
to the breeze through more years of peace than 
of war. The powers of a nation at peace are 
vaster and more complex than its armed forces 
at strife, as the balanced energies of nature in 
the calm day are more than the power exhibited 
in storm. In our study of. its history let us 
remember the years of peace as well as war. 

“The staff that supports our banner, the memo¬ 
rial of C. C. Miller, is a fitting symbol of the past 
in the relations to the future. The words that 
fell from his lips so recently at the flag raising 
in the Arlington district were tremulous with 
thrilling memories not only, but with desire that 
the boys and girls of today should inherit the 
patriotism of the spent years, and guard the 
liberty purchased for them at such great cost. 
The banners of Europe represent the perishing 
dynasties begotten and maintained by the law 
of might. The flag of our country leads the 
world into the dominion of the law of right. 
There are few freemen today who do not deep 
down in their hearts rejoice that it represents a 
united people, and who do not wish that the chil¬ 
dren of our country may be educated to love it 
and the grand things which it represents.” 

In the spring of 1889 a great sorrow came 
into our lives. A nephew of mine who had been 




DR. AND MRS. GEORGE H. DEERE, 1889 

















✓ 



































t 



























TO THE GOLDEN WEST 


28a 


sent by his parents from Danbury, Conn., to 
us to restore his health which began to show 
evidence of incipient lung disease, had been an 
inmate of our home for four years and seemed 
to us like a son. He was a generous natured boy 
of 16 when he came to us and it was hard to 
give him up when his parents came four years 
later to make their home here, building a home 
similar to our own a few blocks distant. He had 
been with them and his sister Grace a few short 
months when he was suddenly attacked with 
heart failure and left us for the higher life. 
Scarcely had we recovered from this shock 
when another still more terrible blow followed 
March 5, 1890. My only sister passed out of our 
life, joining her son whom she had mourned 
so continuously. She was much beloved during 
her residence here and as the Press said of her, 
“She was a lady of rare refinement and sweet¬ 
ness of character.’’ It had been the first time 
since my marriage that we had lived in the 
same town and all our fond expectations were 
doomed to disappointment. She was sixty- 
two years of age. 

A pleasant little incident occurred at Christmas 
time, as reported in our town paper: “After 
the tables had been cleared, and all were seated 
in readiness for the exercises, Warren Taylor 
stepped forward and in a neat little speech on 
behalf of the society presented Dr. Deere with a 
purse of gold amounting to some eighty-odd 
dollars. This was the first time in the history 


284 


GEORGE H. DEERE 


of the parish that Dr. Deere was ever known to 
be lost for want of words to express himself, 
but his good wife, as is her wont, came to his 
rescue, and changed to joy what for the moment 
had partaken of sadness. Following this ex¬ 
pression of esteem in which the good pastor was 
held, came the exercises by the children—and a 
few of the older growth — which consisted of 
music, recitations, etc., and were highly enjoy¬ 
able.” 

For many years Dr. Deere as Prelate of the 
Order of Knights Templars delivered an address 
to the body assembled in his church, who were 
enthusiastic in their praise and generous in their 
offerings, and it was only in the years when 
failing strength obliged him to give up his pulpit 
work he gave up this also. 

Our modest little chapel was a satisfactory 
church home for several years, until the society’s 
ambition led them to purchase a lot on a most 
desirable corner of the residential portion of 
the city, opposite our own home, holding it for 
three years. In 1891 the desire to have an 
edifice larger and better suited to our needs 
awakened in the minds of our friends, the trus¬ 
tees. The friends contributed generously, 
Messrs. White, Finch and La Rue, being the 
largest contributors. They were followed by 
others who gave liberally, according to their 
means. The plan, a beautiful stone structure, 
English Gothic, had been in the hands of Mr. 
White and the pastor since long before the 


TO THE GOLDEN WEST 


285 


lot was purchased, which plan, on submitting 
it to the parish, met with hearty approval and 
was adopted and today stands as the finest 
specimen of chui?eh architecture in Southern 
California. 

The pastor and wife were induced to go east 
to their friends in Minneapolis and solicit sub¬ 
scriptions. They were the guests of Mr. and 
Mrs. Loring for several weeks, and the Morri¬ 
sons and Eastmans entertained them, contrib¬ 
uting generously. In Minneapolis we raised 
$2000 and in Rochester, Minn., La Crosse and 
Chicago $1000 more. While in Chicago, on our 
way to Minneapolis, we visited several stained 
glass works, selecting the Wells Glass Co., they 
sending two six-feet designs to Minnesota, which 
were not quite satisfactory, and on our return 
to Chicago in September the company made two 
more designs. We selected from the four dif¬ 
fering portions, head of one, robe of another, 
arm and hand, etc., they readily making the 
changes; and at last we placed the order in their 
hands. With what anxiety we waited for months 
for the windows to be put in place it will be 
difficult to convey to another. But the result 
justified our expectations. Our people were 
delighted and visitors have pronounced them 
equal to Tiffany’s choice productions. 

While in Chicago, we spent a very pleas¬ 
ant three weeks with Dr. and Mrs. A. J. 
Canfield, Mr. and Mrs. Throop, at Mrs. Vaughn’s, 
the Hansons and Mrs. Sumner Ellis. Dr. Cantwell 


286 


GEORGE H. DEERE 


of the Western branch of the Universalist Pub¬ 
lishing House solicited Dr. to write one of the 
Manuals of Faith and Duty, of which there 
were to be twelve. He wanted Dr.’s to be the 
sixth, and the subject by mutual agreement was 
to be “Prayer.” Dr. consented, but circum¬ 
stances forbade his finishing until ten were 
completed and his the eleventh and last. 
Perhaps it was best it should be the finish of a 
series of short books in exposition of prominent 
teachings of the Universalist Church and the 
moral and religious obligations of believers. 
Each book was prepared by a writer specially 
selected to present the subject assigned. The 
book was written in Santa Monica, Cal., during 
our vacation, July and August, 1892. Dr. 
Emerson, the then editor of the Christian Leader, 
spoke in very complimentary terms, concluding 
by saying “Dr. Deere is one of our most accom¬ 
plished writers.” From the many letters received 
I select the following from the Rev. H. W. 
Thomas, a once Methodist divine of high repute 
in Chicago: 

Ocean Springs, Miss., April 11, 1893. 

The little book on prayer came opportunely. 
I had been sick with grip for three weeks, and 
was just starting for this land of summer, of 
singing birds and flowers, for a short rest 
from labor. And here seated alone beneath the 
great live oaks on the gulf shore I read its pages 
with increasing interest and profit. It is fresh, 
clear, strong; abreast with the latest scientific 


TO THE GOLDEN WEST 


287 


thought of the times. It clears away doubt, 
and brings near and makes real the pres¬ 
ence and power of the Infinite. It did 
my soul good, and that to me is the highest test 
and value of a book of sermons. 

H. W. THOMAS. 

Our church was very united and the debt which 
we incurred seemed possible to be extinguished 
with such leaders, until the night of December 
24, Christmas, 1892, when the warmth all went 
out of the valley, leaving the orange trees vic¬ 
tims to a frost unparalleled in our history. The 
next morning truly the mourners went about the 
streets. For many there seemed no resurrection. 
Pledges which had been made in good faith and 
hope it was found impossible to redeem, as in 
some instances their whole property was swept 
away. Again, our good friends, White and 
Finch, came to the rescue, assuming many of 
the pledges given by others. But the whole 
debt could not be canceled and it was soon seen 
that the mortgage would be foreclosed. As a 
last desperate effort, the ladies, led by the pas¬ 
tor’s wife, took upon themselves the interest, 
and succeeded in staying proceedings for one 
year and three months, while letters flew across 
the continent asking aid. At this juncture,, J. 
S. Dennis, an old friend of the Deeres and Hen¬ 
sons, and at one time of our ministry, volunteered 
to go himself into the East and secure what he 
could, first giving a very generous contribution 


288 


GEORGE H DEERE 


himself. Cheered by Hanson, Conger and others, 
he started, and after valiant service, (to which 
the beautiful stained glass window bears bril¬ 
liant testimony in its inscription, “J. S. Dennis,” 
our friend in need), at last he returned to add 
the contributions of Pasadena and other inter¬ 
ested places in the state to the general conven¬ 
tion’s liberal offering, announcing that the in¬ 
cubus which had weighed us down so long was re¬ 
moved, and our church home was ours truly, 
without doubt in the future of its passing out 
of our hands. After fervent thanksgiving, we 
deeded it to the General Convention, our custom 
regarding every church we had built. 

The day of days came. In February, 1892, we 
gathered for the first service in our beautiful, 
new church, feeling happy and gratified that the 
efforts of years had resulted so successfully. 

The floral decorations were wonderfully beau¬ 
tiful. The choir rail was wreathed with ever¬ 
greens into which was woven over 1,000 white 
La Marque roses. Upon the pulpit platform 
stood a cross six feet high covered with ever¬ 
green, a wreath of 400 Marechal Neil roses en¬ 
circling its arms. Another cross stood upon the 
communion table in front of the pulpit white 
with orange blossoms. The fountain, (a gift of 
Mrs. Deere), whose musical tinkle was heard dur¬ 
ing the intervals of silence, was delightful accom¬ 
paniment to the service. 

The service was solemnly sweet and sacred. 
The pastor feeling that the culmination of his 


TO THE GOLDEN WES1 


289 


labors had arrived and his heart overflowed to 
the dear Father who had crowned the labors so 
happily. Several look back with great satisfac¬ 
tion that they were received as members of the 
church on this first day in the new church and 
four children were christened. It was decided 
to wait until June when our convention would 
be held here to dedicate. 

The state convention coming in June of this 
same year, gave us the opportunity we craved 
for the service of dedication. The third day the 
delegates were given a ride down the famous 
Magnolia avenue, and after the return of the 
delegates from their ride in the forenoon, 
services were held in the church, at which 
Rev. A. J. Wells of San Bernardino preached 
a very able sermon. Following this was the 
beautiful and impressive communion service of 
the church, administered by Dr. Deere and Rev. 
A. J. Wells, on June 11, 1892. 

At 2 p. m. All Soul’s church was dedicated to . 
the worship of God. The ceremonies closed the 
convention which had been in session three 
days. 

The services were very impressive, and opened 
with an organ voluntary and the singing of the 
doxology. The clergy moved in slow procession 
up the aisle while Rev. J. J. Austin read a psalm 
of praise and thanksgiving. Rev. E. M. Clark 
offered prayer, and after a voluntary by the choir 
Dr. Deere made a short historical address. A 
Scripture lesson read by Rev. L. M. Andrews was 


20 


290 


GEORGE H. DEERE 


followed by singing, and then Rev. S. Goodenough 
of Oakland preached the dedication sermon. 

His text was taken from Isa. 45:22: “Look 
unto me and be ye saved, all the ends of the 
earth, for I am God and there is none else.” 

About this time we read in the Press the follow¬ 
ing, which was agreeable reading: 

“A letter has just been received by Mrs. Monroe 
from a lady friend in Rochester, Minn., giving 
a full account of a recent most enjoyable and en¬ 
thusiastic gathering in the Universalist church 
at that place, it being the occasion of the twenty- 
first anniversary of said church. Rev. Dr. Deere 
of this city was pastor of the Rochester parish 
for several years previous to coming to Riverside, 
and he was forced to resign on account of fail¬ 
ing health. That he is still loved and cherished 
by his former parish is evidenced by the follow¬ 
ing. A fine, life-size crayon of Dr. Deere was 
presented to the parish by one of the members, 
Mrs. J. B. Church, at the anniversary festivities, 
and just as the pastor in charge began to read a 
letter from Dr. Deere to the large audience 
assembled, the portrait was unveiled, and 
the lady writes: “It was very impressive; 
not a dry eye in the room; every one wept, 
they were so overcome. The picture is 
as life-like as possible, and is certainly a 
fine work of art. Mr. Deere looks ready to speak 
to us. At our Wednesday evening meetings, and 
all of our socials, we shall now have Mr. Deere 
looking down upon us.” 













































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ALL SOULS UNIVERSALIST CHURCH, RIVERSIDE, CALIFORNIA 
FOUNDED BY DR. DEERE, NOW PASTOR EMERITUS 














TO THE GOLDEN WEST 


291 


Mrs. Deere, at the request of the parish, sent 
a companion picture to this in 1907. 

A SPLENDID CHURCH. 

“As the new Universalist church, on the cor¬ 
ner of Lemon and Seventh streets, is to be open 
for service on Sunday, we think this a proper 
time to give a description of the building.—Press. 

“The architecture is Norman Gothic, the style 
of ecclesiastical buildings some five or six cen¬ 
turies ago, and presents a massive and strikingly 
handsome appearance, being constructed entirely 
of red sandstone from Flagstaff, Ariz., with large 
buttresses and a grand stone tower fifty feet high. 
The roof is covered with tiling, making the build¬ 
ing impervious to fire or water and as enduring 
as the rock-ribbed mountains. 

“The main entrance of the church is into the 
vestibule under the tower on Lemon street, the 
large oak doors being guarded by antique locks 
and hinges, and the floor made of Colton marble. 

“The auditorium is a large, well lighted room, 
with cup-shaped floor and a high vaulted dome 
broken by richly carved oak trusses. The pulpit 
is directly opposite the entrance, and back of it 
is a large alcove for the organ and choir. 

“What at once attracts the attention of the vis¬ 
itor on entering the door is a magnificent me¬ 
morial window in the north end, constructed of 
the finest art and cut glass. In the center is a 
beautiful picture of Christ, whose eyes seem to 


292 


GEORGE H. DEERE 


follow you wherever you go. The colors in this 
window are the finest we have ever seen in any 
window, the fact that the sun never shines 
through it making it possible to use brighter and 
lighter colors and more jewels. This window is 
in three parts, the right hand named for A. S. 
White, the center for Dr. Deere, and the left for 
Wm. Finch—the three men who have been the 
prime movers and indefatigable workers in plan¬ 
ning and constructing the building. 

“At the right of the pulpit is a memorial win¬ 
dow given by Seneca La Rue, and at the left, one 
given by Priestley Hall—both beautiful specimens 
of art. On either side of the entrance are win 
dows, facing the pulpit. East .side, memorial, 
one for Dr. Shryock, right hand, and one for 
Leila Waite; left hand, memorial to J. S. Dennis. 

“The pews are solid oak, as is also the wains¬ 
coting and pulpit furniture, all elaborately 
carved, especially the pulpit and chairs and the 
ends of the pews. Three hundred people can be 
comfortably seated, and by putting in chairs 
many more can be accommodated. The room is 
lighted by gas, the fixtures being clusters of 
candles. The carpet is a terra cotta color, and 
harmonizes well with the rich and quiet elegance 
of everything in the room. Something not often 
seen are the panel railings between the first row 
of seats and the pulpit making those pews as de¬ 
sirable as any in the room. 

“To the south of the auditorium is the ladies 9 
parlor, a large, handsome room, with an entrance 


TO THE GOLDEN WES7 


293 


on Seventh street through a low, quaint porch 
of generous proportions. This room is lighted by 
art glass windows of beautiful designs, one of 
which was given by the Minneapolis church, one 
by the Rochester, Minn., church and one by the 
LaCrosse, Wis., church—all being congregations 
over which Dr. Deere has at one time presided. 

“To the west of the parlor are the kitchen and 
pantry, two rooms provided with every con¬ 
venience known for cooking and serving suppers 
or lunches. 

“All the windows are guarded by double wire 
netting, one coarse to keep boys from breaking 
the costly glass, and the other fine to keep out 
insects. 

“The architect was A. C. Willard and the con¬ 
tractor A. W. Boggs, who sub-let the stone work 
to Richard Girdwood. The plastering was done 
by Claude Hancock, the plumbing by Wood & 
Cunningham, and the painting by Josephson & 
Longfellow. G. B. Gladden furnished the carpet. 
The Wells Art Glass Company of Chicago, man¬ 
ufactured the glass, and Spencer, Harris & Co., 
of Richmond, Ind., the pews. The pulpit furni¬ 
ture came from Small & Co., of Boston. 

“The entire cost of lot and church complete 
is not far from $25,000, and is undoubtedly the 
most elegant church building of its size in Cali¬ 
fornia.” 


THE GOLDEN WEDDING. 

Our golden wedding, which we had hardly 


294 


GEORGE H DEERE 


Loped to see, came December 24th, 1900, and on 
the evening of December 26th we made prepara¬ 
tions to celebrate it instead of the 24th, so as not 
to interfere with the many church affairs. Our 
sweet young friend, Annie Carey McLeod, re¬ 
ports it so felicitously we cannot refrain from 
giving it entire. 

“The Universalist Church presented a brilliant 
scene at the golden wedding reception given last 
evening to Dr. and Mrs. Geo. H. Deere. The 
church was a bower of beauty. The chancel rail 
was draped with smilax, and the altar was cover¬ 
ed with bowls and vases of choice flowers. Chry¬ 
santhemums, roses and lilies vied with each other 
in paying their fragrant tribute to the happy and 
honored couple. Above the choir loft were the 
significant symbols: ‘1850-1900,’ the former fig¬ 
ures done in white, the latter in yellow, roses; and 
all framed in smilax. 

“In all this scene of gladness, there was but one 
note of sadness. That was the crape draped win- 
dow at the rear of the church. A wreath of white 
roses brightened the gloom but a trifle. One ques¬ 
tioned why this emblem suggestive of mourning 
was left to cloud the evening’s gayety, and 
learned that the window was draped in honor of 
Dr. Dennis, who saved the church for the Univer- 
salists; and Dr. Deere desired that in their festiv¬ 
ities they remember their benefactor, who so re¬ 
cently passed to his reward. 

“The entire Ladies’ Aid Society of the church 
acted as reception committee, and right royally 


TO THE GOLDEN WEST 


295 


did they entertain their guests. Among those par¬ 
ticularly prominent during the evening were: The 
Mesdames Dollie Garst, S. P. Tresslar, L. J. Wors- 
ley, W. J. McIntyre, H. IT. Monroe, H. J. Patter¬ 
son, W. P. Russell, S. Dole, S. La Rue and the 
Misses Leach. 

“The bridal couple stood at the front of the 
church to receive the congratulations of their 
friends, and the throng that passed them with 
cordial Greetings bore testimony to the high re¬ 
gard in which they are held by their fellow 
townsmen. 

“Mrs. Deere was dressed in a gown of white linen 
lawn and Valenciennes lace over yellow silk, and 
wore yellow gloves. The white gown was the one 
she wore at her twenty-fifth anniversary, which 
was celebrated in Rochester, Minnesota, and a 
fac-simile of her wedding gown. Mrs. Deere car¬ 
ried her wedding fan of white satin, and wore a 
bouquet of orange blossoms, tied with yellow satin 
ribbon. The groom was clad in the conventional 
black with boutonniere of orange blossoms. 

“Dr. Deere was in genial mood and told a happy 
story of his wedding day, Christmas Eve, fifty 
years ago. He was then pastor of the church at 
Danbury, Conn., and his people were naturally 
much interested in the marriage of their pastor. 
“The banns had already been published, and the 
day was well known to the people. The church 
was crowded at the Christmas Eve exercises, for 
they naturally supposed their pastor would be 
married in the church, although no invitation had 


296 


GEORGE H . DEERE 


been issued. But, owing to the illness of Mrs. 
Deere’s mother, the wedding was quietly cele¬ 
brated at home, much to the disappointment of 
the congregation. There were present at the wed¬ 
ding only their relatives and most intimate 
friends; and of the guests then present only two 
are living now. They were married by Rev. 
Henry Lyon of New York City. 

“The music furnished by Mr. White’s fine Re¬ 
gina music box added much to the pleasure of 
those present. During the evening punch and 
wafers were served in the church parlor, which 
was handsomely decorated. The punch table was 
draped with smilax and held besides the punch 
bowl a gorgeous bunch of Marie Van Hout roses, 
while all about were choice pink roses. Indeed the 
decorations were all suggestive of the contrast be¬ 
tween this land of sunshine and the snowy land 
in which the nuptials were celebrated. 

“A particularly pleasant feature of the evening 
was the organ and cornet duet: The Bridal Chorus 
from Lohengrin, by W. C. Stone of Los Angeles 
and Miss Dolph. 

“Following this Captain McIntyre made a most 
felicitous speech. In substance he said: 

“ 'Among its many blessings, Riverside has been 
singularly fortunate in the men who have minis 
tered to its spiritual wants. Men who have exem¬ 
plified in their lives and character, the teachings 
of the Master whom they love and serve so well. 

“ 'Dr. Deere, in years and length of service, is 
one of the pioneers and the oldest minister in the 


TO THE GOLDEN WEST 


297 


county. In the pulpit, as a member of the board of 
education and the library board, he has left the 
impress of his character upon the public life. It 
seems superfluous for me to say anything concern¬ 
ing him. His life and character is his own best 
eulogy. I never heard him speak a harsh or un¬ 
kind word of any one; always loving, gentle and 
kind, and at all times, and in all places reaching 
to the poet’s height—‘supremely good yet divine¬ 
ly strong.’ 

“ ‘In his journey along the pathway of life, 
whether decked with roses or beset with thorns, 
what a helpmate he has had for fifty years in Mrs. 
Deere. Hope, courage, and high resolve on one 
•hand, love, tenderness and devotion on the other. 
A union of such forces conquers time and makes 
the years glide swiftly by. This must be a 
happy hour for Dr. and Mrs. Deere, looking 
back over fifty years of blameless and well-spent 
lives, rich in the love and affection of a host of 
friends. 

“ ‘Honors are fleeting, fame is evanescent and 
soon passes away; the laurel-crowned hero of 
today is too often forgotten in the victor of to¬ 
morrow, and I do not think my friends, the 
Deeres, would exchange the love and affection 
of their friends and neighbors on this, their 
golden wedding day, for all the honors ever de¬ 
creed to the most successful conqueror. 

“ ‘But we are not alone in our kind wishes. The 
Orient and the Occident meet tonight to do honor 
to Dr. and Mrs. Deere. From that far-off land 


298 


GEORGE H. DEERE 


where our army and navy are fighting the battle 
of freedom comes this greeting from an old-time 
friend. I will ask Mrs. Monroe to lend the music 
of her voice to the poetry of the words:’ 

To Our Dear and Valued Friends, Dr. and Mrs. Deere— 

Down the long vista of our life together 
Since first our lives united in one way. 

Backward we look through fair and cloudy weather 
From the fair standpoint we have reached today. 

The path at first so grassy, green and tender, 

Rejoiced by cool and flowery mead to stray 
Crossed and recrossed the tinkling brooklet slender 
Primrose and violet decked the sunflecked way. 

So slowly that we scarcely note the changing— 
ihe meadow brooklet deepens ’neath our feet. 

The grassy path o’er hill and valley ranging 
Widens to dusty road and crowded street. 

But still the breath of spring time round us lingers, 
June roses bloom in glory round our way, . 

And tender seed we dropped from trembling fingers 
Gives promise of a bounteous harvest day. 

A silver archway o’er our path upspringing 

Marks where the century’s quarter post is won. 

The light, behind us lengthening shadows flinging, 
Warns us we face the slowly westering sun. 

Roses no longer on our pathway glisten; 

Green mounds bedewed with tears rise near and far. 
Standing beside the river, as we listen 
We almost hear the waves upon the ocean bar. 

But the golden rod and asters in the sunlight mellow 
Still border all the wayside harvest field, 

Where fruit and grain in autumn’s livery yellow 
Their four-fold harvest to the sower yield. 

And looking forward through the misty brightness, 

A Golden Milestone rises on our sight; 

Our post inscribed in woods of shining whiteness 
Carved and adorned with strange devices bright. 


TO THE GOLDEN lb ESI 


299 


So here upon the summit of our life’s endeavor, 

The background golden ’gainst the setting sun, 
Unrolls before us all our life together 

Page after page we turn them one by one. 

Fond memory brings the dear remembered faces, 

We see them beck’ning through the rosy mist, 

Faces and forms long passed from out their places 
And with their souls, our souls keep silent tryst. 

The land to which we go seems nearer, 

The Beacon, like a star, shines o’er the land, 

And, as for us, the call sounds near and clearer, 

God grant we two may pass it handinhand. 

—Elnora Stone. 

“ Captain McIntyre read a delightful letter from 
Prof. C. H. Leonard of Tufts College. 

“Dr. Deere was visibly affected, but in his usual 
gracious manner, he said: 

“ ‘My friends, I don’t shape things in mind to 
say them tonight. My mind is in a good deal of 
a whirl. I have made up my mind to one thing: 
When I marry another coupJe, I sliaJJ tell them: 
Aim for your golden wedding; live for it; I didn’t 
think of that when I was married, but I could 
preach a pretty good sermon tonight on how to 
reach your golden wedding, with a few rules 
and regulations. But if you think you could 
make a speech after being pelted with flowers 
and having listened to words that have gotten 
hold of the mind and squeezed the tear glands, 
you had better try it. 

“ ‘I stop and look back and begin to count the 
friends that are living, and then those that are 
gone, and those that are gone outnumber those 
that are living, but I believe that they are as 


300 


GEORGE H. DEERE 


real as those that clasp your hands. Everything 
is changed when you realize that they are not 
dead, but living. A faith in the reality of im¬ 
mortality and the eternity of life changes every¬ 
thing. They are only nearer than they used 
to be. The two worlds blend, we only pass 
through a shadow wall. I didn’t mean to get 
into this strain, but I cannot help it. I cannot 
express to you the appreciation of your thought¬ 
fulness to my wife and I. She has been my 
strength. I have been her strength; we are one. 
I cannot say that love is evanescent, a mere 
sentiment that dies. Love is the center of all our 
life, it gives life its significance. We love each other 
better today than ever. Love is an eternal 
principle underlying life. I thank you all in 
her name and in my own for the kind words 
spoken and the kind things done. God grant 
that you may all, if married, live to reach your 
golden wedding; and, if unmarried, marry for a 
golden wedding. That is the best advice I can 
give you young people.’ 

“Mr.Goff, Congregational minister, spoke a few 
very appropriate words expressing his apprecia¬ 
tion of Dr. Deere’s friendship and of his Chris¬ 
tian character and scholarly abilities. ‘Dr. Deere 
makes but very little noise, but he gives great 
light. All men speak well of Dr. Deere, but 
woe will never fall upon him, for all men speak 
well of him because of his kindness and love. 
And of Mrs. Deere: Her price is far above 
rubies. The heart of her husband doth safely 


TO THE GOLDEN WEST 


301 


trust in her. This married life has flowed along 
until the years have turned to gold. And in the 
language of the youth who said: 'If I were 
offered Queen Victoria for my bride, I would say. 
Come along Becky, let’s try it again.’ So I 
imagine Dr. Deere would say to his wife. In 
behalf of myself and congregation I would say, 
may you be spared for many happy years to¬ 
gether, and may the Lord God make His face 
shine upon you.’ 

“Mr. Holmes, although not on the program,, 
gave utterance to a sincere tribute to Dr. Deere 
as a citizen. 

‘ 1 Mrs. Deere spoke at the end a few words: 

“ 'When fifty years ago we stood side by side 
as we do tonight, I remember these words: '‘ Till 
death do us part.” When fifty years ago we 
stood in our snowy home we little thought that 
in half a century we should be in sunny Califor¬ 
nia, which we love the best of all. As we stand 
on the threshold of this new century down which 
many of you will journey far, our journey will 
be short; but my prayer is: May we go together. r 

“Amd Dr. Deere responded in heartfelt tones: 
'So mote it be.’ 

'' Captain Daniels spoke of Dr. Deere’s pastorate 
in Rochester, Minn., where he knew him before 
coming here. 

“Many letters of congratulation and gifts were 
sent from the old parishes of the happy couple, 
and many of their friends remembered them 


302 


GEORGE H. DEERE 


with loving tokens. Remembrances came from 
Danbury, Conn.; New York City; Boston, Mass.; 
New Orleans, La.; La Crosse, Wis.; Rochester, 
Minn.; Minneapolis, Minn.; Brattleboro, Yt.; 
Marshalltown, la.; Pasadena, Los Angeles, Chi¬ 
cago, Ill., and Riverside friends. 

“The gifts were handsome and embraced a beau¬ 
tiful loving cup of gold filagree, and cut-glass, 
golden sugar and creamer, a golden vase, odd 
spoons and souvenir spoons and several beautiful 
books, besides a number of other beautiful and 
practical gifts, and gold coin. 

“It is quite sure that bride never looked prettier 
than did Mrs. Deere last evening. Surely she 
could not have looked more serene and beautiful 
than she did, not even when her lips framed 
the wedding vows fifty years ago. May they be 
spared to celebrate their diamond anniversary, 
is the sincere wish of the host of friends who met 
with them last evening, and the wish is re-echoed 
by the host of others whose thoughts were with 
them, even though denied participation in the 
joyful event.” 

After five years’ strenuous work in the new 
church, the doctor’s health began to show signs 
of failing, and he struggled to induce some one 
from the East to take his pulpit. Several were 
sufficiently interested to promise, but failed to 
come, among them some of our prominent minis¬ 
ters. Especially while we were in the thrall of 
the debt did it seem impossible to secure a suc¬ 
cessor. The indefatigable pastor still worked on, 


TO 1HE GOLDEN WEST 


303 


although sometimes almost fainting in his pulpit. 
At last, the Rev. Mr. Garst, feeling the need of a 
mild climate, was persuaded to come with his 
family to make a home and while recovering his 
health, minister to our spiritual needs. 

‘‘Riverside, Cal.—Sunday, November 11, was 
like an eastern June day without and a typical 
April day within our church. Rev. C. A. Garst, 
the new pastor, was at his best, and showed no 
sign of having ever been sick; and his whole 
service, including an excellent sermon on the 
‘Higher Ownership,’ had the true unction of the 
spirit. 

“At its close the congregation of parish and 
church membership unanimously confirmed a res¬ 
olution of the trustees calling Brother Garst 
to the pastorate, and surprised good Dr. Deere 
by making him pastor emeritus, covering him and 
his wife with bedewed flowers of affection. The 
formal action only confirmed the high and holy 
place Dr. Deere and wife have in the affection 
of the people. While life and memory last the 
Riverside friends of Universalism will love and 
honor Dr. and Mrs. Deere. Their place in the 
hearts of the people of this generation is secure 
and their blessed inheritance cannot be changed. 

Happy the people who thus honor and love a 
retiring pastor who has given his best years to 
their service, and happy the minister who has 
Dr. George H. Deere for his helper, companion 
.and friend.”—Riverside Press. 

The work begtm so happily was, alas! doomed 


304 


GEORGE H. DEERE 


to disappointment. Little more than one short 
year was the duration of his work here, and we 
laid him to rest in our beautiful Evergreen cem¬ 
etery j broken hearted at our loss. For two years 
we were pastorless, discouraged, but when the 
Rev. E. C. Andrus came, it was hoped as a young 
man he would attract that element into the 
church, but we were soon pastorless again, and 
many hopeless. Only the indomitable will and 
courage of the pastor and wife kept the light of 
hope burning, and we reached our hands toward 
the East for help. Rev. Mr. Petrie was engaged 
for us by Dr. A. Gunnison, and our hearts were 
elated at the church being opened once more. 
But fates had willed it otherwise. While Dr. 
Shinn in one of his periodical tours through 
the state was giving us the cheer of his presence, 
he an noun** d the coming of Brother Petrie, giv¬ 
ing him high praise. Even then he was dead, and 
we were again without hope. 

, Soon our hearts took new courage again. Rev. 
Mr. Andrew Cross desired to come and did so, 
beginning in 1901. For a while we were happy, 
although the delicate complexion caused us to 
tremble with fear. His spiritual face in the pulpit 
combined with his earnest work, kept us hoping 
even against hope until the fact could no longer 
be concealed. His days were numbered and they 
were few. In the spring of 1903 he with his wife 
started for Sierra Madre to try the higher alti¬ 
tude. In the few short weeks he failed fast and 
we laid him to rest in Evergreen. 


TO THE GOLDEN WES1 


305 


> 


In the meantime the Rev. H. E. Benton was 
anxious to try the air of California to see if he 
could regain his shattered health, and had writ¬ 
ten to Mr. Cross about Riverside. It was a seri¬ 
ous outlook for us to put ourselves in a position 
to experience another sorrowful disappointment, 
but we felt anxious for the young man, and said 
at once: “Come on.” He did so with a wife and 
two dear boys. He rapidly gained strength and 
with it the health required for his work, until to¬ 
day he seems the embodiment of health to our 
great joy. He is a great source of comfort to 
Dr. Deere, who enjoys greatly his companionship 
as well as his pulpit work. He is greatly beloved 
by his church, and outsiders hold him in great es¬ 
teem, and our earnest prayer is that he may be 
with us many years. 

In July, 1906, occured the twenty-fifth anni¬ 
versary of our coming to Riverside. It was de¬ 
cided to celebrate it, and The Outlook, our state 
paper, outlines as follows: 

RIVERSIDE UNIVERSALISTS CELEBRATE THEIR 
25TH ANNIVERSARY. 

In spite of the heat a large congregation as¬ 
sembled on Sunday morning, July 22, to celebrate 
the 25th anniversary of the Universalist church. 
Among them were noticed people, who, though 
members of other churches, had known and ad¬ 
mired Dr. Deere in the early days and were eager 
to testify their appreciation of his work and 


21 


306 


GEORGE H. DEERE 


worth, as well as to hear once more his voice. But 
in the latter purpose, they, as well as the regular 
members of the congregation, were doomed to 
disappointment. So long had it been since the 
good doctor had essayed to preach, that the an¬ 
ticipation became a source of anxiety; this, to¬ 
gether with the approaching infirmities incident 
to his 79 years, banished sleep from his eyelids 
for three nights, and Sunday morning found him 
completely exhausted and utterly unable to 
preach. However, he sat in his old place in the 
pulpit, and his presence there was as a benedic¬ 
tion adding grace and blessing to the scene, and 
at the close of the hour he pronounced the words 
which sent all away from the scene feeling that 
it was good to be there. 

It is a rare occurrence that the man who 
preached the first sermon for a new church, 
should be living in the community twenty-five 
years after. But such was the good fortune of 
this church, to have Rev. Dr. G. H. Deere, its 
first pastor, still in its midst. True, he has not 
been the active head of the church for some 
years, and is now the honored pastor emeritus, 
but except for the physical affliction of failing 
eyesight, he is in good health and his mental 
vigor is clear and keen as ever. 

And surely nothing could be more fitting than 
that on the proud day of the church for which 
he did so much, he should sit in the pulpit once 
more. 

Mr. Benton endeavored to fill Dr. Deere’s 


TO THE GOLDEN WEST 


307 


place and spoke appreciatively of what both Dr. 
and Mrs. Deere had done for the church. They 
were pioneers and they laid firmly the founda¬ 
tion; that foundation was two-fold; first, their 
faith; their faith was different from any other, 
it looked at life from a different and brighter 
point of view. Second, was their faithfulness to 
their faith, because of which they gave thought, 
labor and sacrifice to their church. Their church 
w T as not a secondary matter with them, but they 
placed it beside the home, the school, the commu¬ 
nity, equal in importance with any of them. 

At first, plans were made to hold in the church 
a reception to Dr. Deere and his good wife, who 
has filled her place worthily and capably through 
all these years. This was to be followed by a pub¬ 
lic service in the auditorium. But on account of 
the heat which would make such an occasion un¬ 
pleasant, it was decided to forego the formalities 
and have instead a picnic at Fairmount park. 
The wisdom of this was clearly demonstrated. 
In the church the discomfort occasioned by the 
heat would have been intense, but under the trees 
the air was delightful. Although many had left 
town, there were about one hundred who gave 
cordial greeting to them and to whom this day 
meant so much. Among them were some of their 
old friends from Redlands, Highgrove and San 
Diego, who once had been members of the con¬ 
gregation. Supper over, an hour of social con¬ 
verse was all too quickly passed, and then hands 
joined in the circle of friendship, voices were 


308 


GEORGE H. DEERE 


raised in the familiar tune of “Auld Lang 
Syne,” and the day was over, celebrated quietly, 
informally, and yet in a way that will leave a 
pleasant memory in the breasts of all concerned. 

RETROSPECT. 

(By Mrs. G. H. Deere.) 

In June, 1881, twenty-five years ago, two pil¬ 
grims set forth from Minneapolis for the Golden 
West. No visions of the gold which lay yet in 
unexplored regions enticed them, or even the fab¬ 
ulous wealth to be garnered from the trees yet 
unplanted, but primarily to escape from the rig¬ 
orous winters which bid fair to make serious in¬ 
roads on the health of the senior of the twain, 
and also to spread the gospel of Christ, the good 
tidings which he had spent his life thus far 
in promulgating. 

It was with undaunted courage these two left 
the life of successful work, which had given them 
the fullest enjoyment, and dear friends with 
whom they had labored for years, to come into 
this new region, but with true missionary spirit 
and zeal they started, asking only to be given an 
opportunity for work. 

Coming by the way of Omaha, spending one 
Sunday with an old parishioner, who had begged 
the privilege of listening to the voice of the dear 
pastor once more, stopping in Salt Lake City an¬ 
other Sunday, where they both spoke by invita¬ 
tion in the Mormon Sunday school; then on to 


TO THE GOLDEN WES'l 


309 


San Francisco, where, they visited the sacred spot 
where lay the remains of their dear and true 
friend, Thomas Starr King. Here in this unique 
and interesting city, a most delightful two weeks 
were spent and it was hard to resist the urgent en¬ 
treaties to remain and resurrect the dormant so¬ 
ciety, but faithful to the pledge to Riverside, they 
sped on to that place, coming by the steamer to 
Los Angeles, where they remained one night. The 
society in San Francisco having no further use 
for the hymn books “Church Harmonies,” kindly 
presented them with fifty copies, making a pre¬ 
cious link of the old life to the new one they 
were entering upon. 

On arrival at Colton, then the nearest railway 
station to Riverside, they were met by two earn¬ 
est Universalists and their no less faithful wives— 
Dr. K. D. Shugart and wife, and Mr. and Mrs. I. 
C. Haight. It was like a meeting of' friends en¬ 
deared by long acquaintance, the tie of religious 
sympathy flashing from eye to eye. 

The long, dusty road, so different from the 
hard, clean avenue of today, was traversed at 
last, the merciless heat assuring them of a warm 
welcome. About noon of July 20 the parties 
arrived at the home of the genial doctor, where 
for two months they had a most delightful home. 
The three days between the arrival and Sunday 
were spent in rest and adjusting themselves to 
the heat and dust. On Sunday the preacher 
asked Dr. Shugart about the room for service 
which was to be held in Odd Fellows’ hall. He 


310 


GEORGE H. DEERE 


said it was probably all right, but they would 
drive down early and see about it. They accord¬ 
ingly went and found an astonishing state of 
things. The hall was shut up close, a table the 
length of the room covered with debris from a 
church social, a high platform devoid of cover¬ 
ing or shield from view the ungainly “horses’' 
necessary for support, but not enhancing its 
good looks. It was evident that something must 
be done and it was a good two hours’ work. 
Throwing off their coats they took brooms in 
hand after dismantling the tables, and swept dil¬ 
igently. The dust necessitating the opening of 
doors and windows, invited in swarms of flies, 
which, alas! remained through the service. After 
the cleansing of the floor was accomplished, at¬ 
tention was directed to the platform. The 
preacher, diving under, brought out what proved 
to be a box pulpit improvised for use by a former 
Episcopalian society, covered with a red shawl, 
and on its front a black cross. The pulpit was 
quickly elevated to its place on the platform. A 
strip of carpet and another of unbleached mus¬ 
lin fastened across the front with three immense 
nails effectually concealed the rubbish under¬ 
neath, and all seemed in readiness. But it was 
none too soon, for people were coming in rapidly 
—some from curiosity, but many from soul hun¬ 
ger and the joyous prospect of having it satisfied. 
It was a day long to be remembered. The room 
was filled to overflowing with people of all de¬ 
nominations, even clergymen—some from adjoin- 


TO 7 HE GOLDEN WEST 


311 


ing towns. With the thermometer at 104 degrees, 
the preacher with an enthusiasm equally as high, 
began, kindling as he looked into the radiant 
faces before him, into an eloquence unsuspected 
by himself. The vigorous thumps of a cane heard 
at times, was the only sound to break the still¬ 
ness. 

The organ was played on this occasion by one 
who had played at one time in Dr. Martineau’s 
church, himself a composer of considerable note. 
After the services were over, and the hand¬ 
shaking and congratulations were indulged in, a 
Sunday school was organized with a Swedenbor- 
gian minister for superintendent, an ex-member 
of the church in New Jersey as assistant super¬ 
intendent, and classes formed. A Bible class 
with the pastor as teacher, proved a very attract¬ 
ive feature. 

The Ladies’ Aid society, which had been or¬ 
ganized for a year, met during the week at the 
Finch’s home, and notwithstanding the ther¬ 
mometer was over 100 degrees, there was a large 
attendance of bright, earnest women, rejoicing 
that their hopes had such glorious prospects of 
fruition. 

Oh! you who murmur at the little discomforts 
of today, remember that in those days there was 
little shade; clouds of dust enveloping the car¬ 
riage when riding, and when one essayed to 
walk, if men, their legs were yellow as bumble¬ 
bees. There was no ice, nothing but ditch water, 
conveyed in open ditches to drink, and in those 


312 


GEORGE H. DEERE 


days not even the luxury of lemons, and we 
nearly exhausted the drug stores of their sup¬ 
ply of citric acid. 

A QUARTER OF A CENTURY. 

The celebration of the twenty-fifth anniversary 
of the coming of Doctor Deere to Riverside and 
the church which he founded, means much to 
the Riverside people. It has a wide significance 
throughout our church, for the doctor has had a 
strong place in our denominational life, from the 
Atlantic to the Pacific. 

He was ordained October 17, 1849, in Danbury, 
Conn., where he had his first pastorate and where 
he married on December 24, 1850, Miss Annie 
Louise Downing. Since then his work has been 
known and enjoyed in such fields as Warren, 
Mass., Brattleboro, Vt.; Melrose and Shelburne 
Palls, Mass.; LaCrosse, Wis.; New Orleans, La., 
and Rochester, Minn. 

He was strong in the pulpit, a fine sermonizer 
and a pleasing extemporaneous preacher. But 
his influence as a pastor, in the home, and his 
interest in education, reforms, moral and civic 
life of the community, has made him valuable 
and helpful wherever he has lived. In Riverside 
he was at one time chairman of the county board 
of education, of the city school trustees and of the 
trustees of the public library. 

He and his good wife have earned a strong: and 


TO THE GOLDEN WEST 


313 


tender place in all hearts. Long may they live 
to enjoy it. 


CALIFORNIA GREETINGS. 

Dr. and Mrs. Deere: It gives me great pleas¬ 
ure as president of the California Universalist 
convention to bring you the greetings of our co¬ 
workers, on this twenty-fifth anniversary of your 
commencing the work in this state. 

You were indeed pioneers of our cause in Cali¬ 
fornia. As such, we greet you. Your work was 
that of pioneers, hut you builded wisely and well 
as the fine stone church and the splendid peo¬ 
ple who represent it testify. It must he a pleas¬ 
ure to you to compare those early beginnings 
with present results. 

Then, the faith you preached was everywhere 
spoken against. Now it is honored and respected 
everywhere. It is preached from other pulpits 
and believed by people in every church. 

We congratulate you on your large share in 
this splendid harvest. We trust you are enjoy¬ 
ing it to the full. 

Your part as pioneers’ in our state work we 
gladly acknowledge -and record here. You will 
remember the first meeting in June, 1887, which 
resulted in the organization of our state conven¬ 
tion. It was held in Riverside, in the little 
wooden meeting house “next to the livery sta¬ 
ble.’’ You and Brother Finch of Riverside and 
Hon. A. G. Throop and myself of Pasadena, were 


314 


GEORGE H. DEERE 


present. The present constitution and by-laws 
under which we are now working were then and 
there formulated and adopted by that meeting of 
four. The spirit of your wisdom and experience 
dominated that work and it has never been absent 
from our councils to this day. 

The Universalists of California are grateful to 
you for the good and enduring work you have 
done. They honor you as a pioneer and a vet¬ 
eran, and we love you as a brother. 

May this greeting from a multitude of friends 
add some pleasure to these crowning days of your 


life. 


E. L. CONGER, 

President. 


July 24, 1906. 


FROM S. G. DUNHAM, D. D. 


“We congratulate our Riverside friends on the 
twenty-fifth anniversary of Universalist preach¬ 
ing in that city. We congratulate them 
upon having the grand old man, who did so 
much to make our church a power, wherever he 
has labored, with them. His love has been cen¬ 
tered in that church, the last fruit of a fruitful 
ministry. May he live many years and receive 
each year of his life new revelations of the love 
which is felt for himself and his devoted wife. 
We confidently expect a great future for our 
church in that beautiful city. Every message 
which brings word of advancement is hailed with 
thankfulness and delight by the sister churches 
of the southland. May God continually bless 


TO THE GOLDEN WEST 


315 


you and yours, Father Deere, is the prayer of 
every Universalist in California.” 

The year 1907 marked an important era in Dr. 
Deere’s life, completing his eightieth year. We 
were in Los Angeles and the day was very happily 
spent at the home of my niece and her father, 
Miss Grace Louise and William Mansfield. Callers 
came all during the day, the last of whom were 
Dr. and Mrs. Nash. Today, September 4, 1908, 
on his eighty-first birthday, we are in the home 
of devoted friends in Pasadena, Mr. and Mrs. 
Ceo. H. Curtis, and her father, Stillman S. 
Hitchcock. The kindness of this family can 
never be forgotten. Mrs. Curtis is one of the love¬ 
liest of characters, a faithful worker in our 
church and father and husband have gone hand 
in hand with her in all her good works. While 
so many of our contemporaries have passed over 
the silent sea, the few remaining ones are a great 
source of comfort to Dr. Deere, who lives so 
much in the past. One of the greatest enjoy¬ 
ments of his retrospective thoughts is the fact 
that all of the parishes he has fostered and been 
a faithful pastor of are in a flourishing condi¬ 
tion. Our cousins, Mr. and Mrs. Woodcock were 
with us in Pasadena, and helped to keep the 
light burning in the doctor’s heart by their 
sweet sympathy. One of the pleasant features 
of our stay in Pasadena, 1908, was the uniting 
by the doctor in marriage on the 29th of August 
of two dear friends, Winfield C. Stone and Hattie 
Clark. 


316 


GEORGE H DEERE 


One thing I wish to mention, viz., his interest 
in the Greek, which increased instead of falter¬ 
ing, and I sometimes fear he may have sacrificed 
something to his continual absorption in it. In 
addition to the usual study bestowed upon it 
by students, he kept at it after his sight began 
to fail and he had relinquished his work in the 
pulpit, working often long into the night commit¬ 
ting favorite portions of chapters as if with pro¬ 
phetic vision he foresaw the time when memory 
should succeed the printed page. The Lord’s 
prayer was as familiar to him in the Greek as in 
his own tongue and one of the scenes of his visit 
to Rome in 1878, often recalled, was the being 
shut alone in the darkness at his own request in 
the Pantheon, and while there repeating the 
Lord’s Prayer aloud in the Greek tongue. 

In closing, I would give most sincere thanks 
to the Rev. Mr. Benton who has so kindly assisted 
me in the proof reading and Dr. Nash who did 
the same while we were in Pasadena, and who 
has laid us under special obligations for his soul¬ 
ful introduction, also to Dr. C. H. Leonard for 
his words of appreciation. 


The year 1908 which brought total darkness in¬ 
to the life of Dr. Deere brought him additional 
sorrow. This was the sudden (to us) passing of 
the life of our beloved cousin, Charles H. Deere, of 
Moline, Ill. the only son of John Deere, the veteran 
plow inventor and manufacturer, who had for twenty 
years carried on successfully the business established 
by his father. A most notable feature connected with 
his phenomenal success was the continuing it in 
his father’s name, simply coupling his own with it, 
Deere & Co., and now the immense establishment 
is in the hands of the direct descendants of John 
Deere, through his daughters. Three sons of Steven 
H. Velie, who passed out of our life many years 
ago, leaving the memory of one of the whitest, pur¬ 
est souls to his friends, are engaged in the busi¬ 
ness as well as the sons of other daughters. The 
benefactions of Charles to us as well as others, will 
keep his memory warm in our hearts forever. 














♦ ' 

























CHAPTER XXX 

SELECTED SERMONS AND ADDRESSES 

As Dr. Deere preached entirely extemporane¬ 
ously only a few of his sermons have been pub¬ 
lished, those especially requested, of which the 
following are selected: 

“OUR REASONABLE FAITH; WHY WE BE¬ 
LIEVE IT” 

Our reasonable faith we call Universalism, a 
word having a history which goes far toward 
fixing its meaning as used by the Universalist 
Church of America. The beginning of our 
departure from the mediaeval system was in 
the nature of a return to the ancient and once 
generally received view of human destiny. Tak¬ 
ing the Winchester Confession of 1803, the ac¬ 
cepted symbol of our church, in evidence, to¬ 
gether with the suggested changes considered 
by our national body, I may safely say that 
“Universalism is the doctrine of the final holi¬ 
ness and happiness of the whole family of man¬ 
kind.’ ? Whatever other changes may have come, 
this old definition still bodies forth the faith of 
our church in final things—still speaks the sub¬ 
stance of our great hope. 


318 


GEORGE H. DEERE 


As organized in the American church, Univer- 
salism is simply the Christ life and thought 
working according to the Christ method towards 
the final results which Christ sought by his 
ministry, death and resurrection. The end he 
aimed to accomplish is, therefore, always kept 
in view, and should be felt by each follower to be 
the grand purpose of existence. Belief in the 
final advancement of all life along the way he 
leads, and the final harmony of all thought with 
his, is the special inspiration of our communion. 

Eschatology, therefore, has a large place in 
our theology. If it seem unduly prominent, 
consider the bold, overshadowing horrors of the 
eschatology so familiar in the recent past; and 
remember that, crushed beneath the organized 
mistakes and errors of centuries of wrong think¬ 
ing, ours must naturally become conspicuous as 
its martyrs struggle to uncover and restore it 
to position, and raise and readjust its supporting 
truths. 

My special part tonight is to tell you why we 
believe, or to give you some reason for the 
hope that is in us. As it relates to the result, 
the final outcome of whatever is, the garnered 
fruit of being, the book of evidences, if complete, 
would be the story of all causation. As it is the 
product of all the factors that enter into life, 
plus the totality of the permanent and endless 
forces that forever environ man, the strength 
of evidence derived from the sacred Scriptures 
must be found in their revelation of these factors 


SERMONS AND ADDRESSES 


319 


and forces rather than in verbal declaration. A 
thus saith the Lord may be as capable of verifi¬ 
cation as a statement in a guide book. Such are 
most of the teachings of Jesus. But prophecy 
can be verified only by the event. If there are 
revelations concerning final things, they are 
prophecies and cannot have the same credit given 
them that belongs to what one can test. Indeed 
mere textual proof has come to have little weight 
with educated thinkers and teachers, however 
forcefully they may use it, while with the mass 
of the people, the fact that the verbal evidence 
is employed to prove the most contradictory 
propositions is so patent that its power to settle 
controversy is nearly if not wholly gone. It 
may silence, but not convince. When all is done 
it is felt that in this way the Bible can be made 
to teach anything, and the soul cries aloud for 
what can be verified—that . which once made 
known can be seen and satisfactorily understood 
by the soul itself. 

Understand, then, that the Universalist be¬ 
lieves that his faith may be abundantly found in 
the express language of the Bible; and that 
when rightly interpreted there is no Scripture 
which teaches any other doctrine of final things. 
Our literature is especially rich in this kind of 
evidence and is most convincing to a fair minded 
enquirer. Ask and this kind shall be given you, 
“good measure, pressed down, shaken together 
and running over.” Yet we affirm that the 
strong, controlling, uplifting, saving evidence 


320 


GEORGE H. DEERE 


comes from personal knowledge of God and of 
man, as revealed in Jesus Christ. Negations may 
be generated in many ways. Man may come by 
many paths to mere freedom from fear of a worse 
destiny than annihilation. But to attain to the 
abiding, joyous, righteousness-loving hope cher¬ 
ished by our church, one must seek it in Christ, 
must find in him the fullness of those positive 
truths on which it is based. Nor are these truths 
far off, occult, mystical; but plain, broadly open 
to the view of such as have eyes to see. Let us 
look at a few of them and their relations to our 
eschatology. 

1st. We see God in and through Christ as the 
infinite and universal Father—Our Father who 
art in heaven. Seek this truth as found in the 
life and word of Christ, and confirm it by com¬ 
munion and filial living, and you will know what 
you cannot learn through the mere intellect 
without the Fatherhood of God. From knowledge 
so.learned our hope is born. 

What God is he always was, and always will be. 
The beloved disciple saw that, and finding a new 
name for God—God is love—declared he was that 
in the beginning when he made things, and that 
without him was not anything made that was 
made. That the omnipotent, all-knowing 
Father should create, or permit to come into 
existence, anything that could by any possibility 
defeat the ultimate purpose of his love, is un¬ 
thinkable. We are not competent to say that 
love would not permit the sin, suffering and sor- 


SERMONS AND ADDRESSES 


321 


row incident to human life, for we creatures 
cannot know what is necessary in the making of 
free, intelligent, happy immortals. But we are 
competent to say that love could not purpose 
or suffer these" as finalities. Even our poor 
common human love could not, how much less 
his who alone is worthy to be called good? Are 
we better than God? Or, as Robert Browning 
says in Saul: 

“Do I find love so full in my nature, God’s ultimate gift. 
That I doubt His own love can compete with it? Here 
the parts shift? 

Here the creature surpass the creator,—the end what 
began?” 

That we have the right to reason from the 
best in ourselves as to what God would or would 
not do, Jesus thought and taught, saying, 
“What man is there of you, whom if his son ask 
bread, will he give him a stone? or if he ask a 
fish, will he give him a serpent? If ye then, being 
evil, know how to give good gifts unto your 
children, how much more shall your Father 
which is in heaven give good things to them that 
ask him?” Yes, indeed, blessed Saviour, how 
much more! In our love for men and efforts to 
help and to save, we can read in our own hearts 
as well as thine, grandest prophecy of ineffable 
things! Nothing less could content thy love 
than the drawing of all men unto thee, and 
nothing less could satisfy the Heavenly Father. 
When we have touched this mountain summit of 


22 


322 


GEORGE H DEERE 


experience we see something of the creati/j 
light reflected from God’s finished work, and 
taste the joy of onr great hope. 

I see, however, the cloud that obscures your 
vision, rising from the baseless notion that God 
can do nothing for bad men after death. I say 
baseless notion, for it has neither Scripture, 
reason, nor common sense in its support. If man 
must be something, believe something, expe¬ 
rience something, or do something before death 
or be endlessly, hopelessly miserable, common 
justice would require that it should be as evident 
to every body as the existence of the sun at high 
noon of a cloudless day. It should be evident 
beyond dispute, while in fact it is the most 
groundless assumption in Christian theology; 
and those who believe it have broken up into 
'sects in debate of what that something is that 
must be this side of the grave in order to 
lift man out of hopelessness. 

Ah, no, the whole conception is a travesty of 
that divine justice which rewards every man ac¬ 
cording to his works with certain, but not hope¬ 
less retribution, here and hereafter. I have not 
space to show that the justice of God leads to the 
same issue as his love, and is, indeed, only an¬ 
other form of it, but must present briefly my 
.concluding thought. 

2. In and through Christ we see mankind as 
one family, bound by the spiritual law of fra¬ 
ternity as children of God to love one another, 


SERMONS AND ADDRESSES 


323 


among whom use, or service, is to be the measure 
of greatness. This aggressive spirit of fraternity, 
this brotherly service involving self-sacrifice, 
Jesus perfectly illustrated in his own life, leading 
mankind in his obedience to the heavenly law. 
“If any man have not this spirit of Christ he 
is none of his.” This is the blood of Christ that 
cleanseth from all sin; the sap in the true vine 
which, flowing in the branches, makes them fruit¬ 
ful; the leaven in the meal that must leaven the 
whole lump. This is the spirit illustrated by the 
woman seeking her lost piece of silver till she 
find it; and by the shepherd who, not content 
with his ninety and nine, seeks the one lost as 
if it were his all—seeks till he finds. It is of this 
that Paul discourses to the Corinthians in the 
13th chapter of his first letter, and for which 
we pray “Thy kingdom come, Thy will be done 
in earth as in heaven.” 

Yes, as in heaven, for we look above for its 
complete fulfillment. “There is joy among the 
angels of God over one sinner that repenteth, ” 
and this love-power is the inspiration of that 
joy. Jesus rose from the dead, and reappeared, 
again and again, until his friends saw that the 
great movement he began on earth was from 
above and that death was no bar. Paul, who 
knew Christ only from above, saw final things, 
clearly from the standpoint of his resurrection 
(1 Cor. 15:24-28). The salt cannot lose its savor 
in changing worlds without becoming worth- 


324 


GEORGE H. DEERE 


less. Christlike goodness is contagious, or, in. 
other words, intensely missionary. If there are 
hells in the other world there must be one or a 
thousand missionaries' to every soul in them. 
No evil can escape the consuming fire of God’s 
love. For these, and numberless like reasons, 
we believe that God will have all men to be 
saved and come to the knowledge of the truth, 
and in the end himself be all in all. 


LIBERAL CHRISTIANITY AND REFORM. 

Los Angeles—1889. 

In the time allotted only the skeleton of the 
theme assigned me can be given. The misty 
phrase—Liberal Christianity—must be reduced 
for my present use into form. Let it stand, then, 
not so much for free* thought as for the religion 
of Jesus, the Christ, separated by free thought 
as well from the misconceptions of his reporters 
as from the overgrowth of ages of tradition, ec- 
clesiasticism and dogma. For it is not liberal¬ 
ism in reform, whatever that may mean, which 
we are to consider, but Liberal Christianity— 
that which remains in the crucible of just and 
competent criticism, into which has been placed 
historic Christianity. 

Allowance of liberty to think and choose, each 
for himself, has been forced from ecclesiastical 
tyranny at cost of incalculable suffering. The 
cry of anguish from quickened souls in the 
ancient bondage was heard and answered by the 
infinite consuming fire, which burst into flame 
through Luther, flashed and thundered in storms 
over Germany, the Netherlands and the British 
Isles, to make space for freemen, tolerant of 
each other, to grope their way through the dark¬ 
ness, stumbling, bleeding, burning, back to the 
lost path, or forward to the new. As the in- 


326 


GEORGE H. DEERE 


tellect, struggling with its grave clothes, stag¬ 
gers forward, history begins suit for di¬ 
vorce from mythology; old art, marred, 
broken, torn, steps forth to lead the new art 
up to vantage ground for new departures; the 
types, the telescope, the mariner’s compass, 
dodge the hand that in the name of God would 
destroy them as tools of the devil; alchemy is 
reformed into chemistry, astrology into astron¬ 
omy, and sister sciences emerge to join in the 
cosmic chorus. In our own day it is plainly 
seen that the countries that have won the 
largest freedom for the human mind are the 
birthlands of the findings and inventions that 
are bringing man understanding^ face to face 
with his neighbor in the antipodes, and making 
audible, as if in one temple, the meditations and 
prayers of the world. 

But, while we recognize the priceless worth 
of such liberty, let us not ignore its dangers. 
As it is character back of intellect that deter¬ 
mines the direction in which mind shall work, 
it is not strange that liberty’s progress should 
be marked by excesses; that it should wage in¬ 
discriminate war upon everything associated 
with the ancient thralldom; that it should seem 
at times like a movement of a shipload of people 
from the ship to the sea. 

The freedom of motion toward destruction, 
however, has its divine checks and bounds, and 
the prodigal moves at the last up from the 


SERMONS AND ADDRESSES 


327 


slum of license to the liberty of truth and right¬ 
eousness. We learn—slowly, it may be, yet 
surely—that release from outward constraint 
and control does not relax the hold of the laws 
of our being, nor the necessity for knowing and 
conforming to truth. Edison’s liberty to set 
aglow the electric light has been in exact ratio 
to his obedience to electric law. We may feel 
ourselves free to weed the Lord’s garden with 
a plow, but it will not be a success. Though 
it result in fervid, vigorous Elsmereism, it will 
prove but a fading memory of a departed pres¬ 
ence—precious, indeed, and mournfully sacred, 
yet fading—a spent force to a succeeding gen¬ 
eration. Christianity minus orderly, law-gov¬ 
erned supernaturalism would come to rest on 
the track like a train whose crazy engineer has 
put out the fires, believing that the steam in 
the boiler is sufficient. God and prayer, im¬ 
mortality and hope, perish with the supernatural. 
But we have no fear. The infinite, living, per¬ 
sonal presence can not be abolished by human 
will or thought; nor can the regions where hope 
sees the home of its loved ones be emptied by 
the denials of the blind. 

It is not, however, with this line of thought 
that we are specially concerned in this paper, 
but, I repeat, with what remains visible in the 
crucible of honest, competent criticism and free- 
thinking, into which we have placed historic 
Christianity. I do not mean all, but so much as 


328 


GEORGE H. DEERE 


is clearly discernible by the largest number of 
adequate intelligence. 

Three facts may be seen, like the three in the 
furnace of old, walking to and fro, unharmed 
by the flame—yea, a fourth, one “like unto the 
Son of God,” radical conservatism, the trying- 
and-holding-fast - to - that - which - is-good spirit, 
whose look is upward through the rift of time 
into the sublime verities of eternity. These facts 
I must describe as I see them. 

1. Some nineteen centuries ago, One lived 
a life so large, and so full of all highest human 
qualities, and all highest qualities of spirit 
knowable by human nature, that it is still above 
us and in direct line with the advancing devel¬ 
opment of ideal manhood; a life commanding 
and guiding us in upward movement as truth 
commands the intellect, and compelling our 
acknowledgment as we approach him that he 
is master, teacher, exemplar and Saviour as the 
sun compels acknowledgment that he is Lord of 
day. 

2. This Master, Teacher, Saviour, was the 
incarnation of three complex powers — powers 
very inadequately expressed in our day by the 
hackneyed, case-hardened words faith, hope, 
love—powers which pass through analysis into 
different strands of vital force as the white light 
passes through the prism into colors. 

3. Our common humanity contains the rudi¬ 
ments of these powers. They are constituents 


SERMONS AND A DDR ESSES 


329 


of our nature, destined to become the dominant 
energies as we develop into the highest, or, in 
other phrase, are “born from above,” or, another, 
“awake in the likeness of Christ,” or, still an¬ 
other, “are made alive in Christ.” 

We see faith, hope, love in the Master; we 
find the beginnings of faith, hope and love in 
ourselves. We approach him as we grow in 
these, and find the greatest of these to be love. 

Now let us take up this little word love and 
look about us in the light of it. How the uni¬ 
verse flushes with beauty and promise as, think¬ 
ing of the origin of things, we say, “God is love.” 
“Of him, and through him, and to him, are all 
things, to whom be glory forever!” How easily 
the word transmutes itself into fatherhood as, 
thinking of the springs of our personal being 
we say “God made man in his own image,” 
“Be ye perfect, even as your Father in Heaven 
is perfect.” How natural that the- Infinite 
Father should want his love answered by love, 
content only in that it is real. And what can be 
plainer than this, that “whoso loveth God should 
love his brother also,” or, what more transparent 
than the saying, “Love worketh no ill to his 
neighbor, therefore love is the fulfilling of thr 
law.” Here we come to the headspring of Chris¬ 
tian ethics, in the law “Thou shalt love thy 
neighbor as thyself.” Not ten but ten thousand 
commandments are contained in this one. 

Before Christ was it? So was the Pantheon 


330 


GEORGE H. DEERE 


before St. Peter’s dome. So was the law of 
gravitation before Newton seized it and made 
it solve the mysteries of stellar motion. The 
Christ made it his own by full statement and 
translation into life; and the life was and still 
is the light of the world. Certainly, it is the 
central force in the religion of Him who declared 
it to be one of the two on which hang all the 
law and the prophets. The legalist has a talent 
for righteousness; the Christian, in his love 
has a genius for it. “Reform!” cries the voice 
in the wilderness, “for the reign of heaven is 
at hand.” Jesus takes up the cry with power, 
and what Socrates attempted by reasoning in 
Athens, and John in Judea by command and 
ceremony, the Master accomplishes by renewing 
the very fountains of life. 

Let us look now for the roots of the reforms 
of our own day. 

There were slaves when Jesus lived on earth. 
Did he say free them? Glad would Garrison 
and Phillips and the anti-slavery clergy have 
been for a direct, specific word from his lips that 
would break a chain or wound what seemed to 
them the “sum of all villainies.” Glad would 
they have been had Paul not have sent Onesimus 
back to Philemon. What weapons drew they 
from the Christian armory with which to fight 
through great despair to splendid victory? 
Did they pierce with any one of the five points 
of Calvinism? Could they wield the authority 


SERMONS AND ADDRESSES 


331 


of Apostolic succession against it? Could they 
wash it away with theological blood? Had the 
slave powers been a million times worse than 
they were, these things would have been as they 
were, tonic, enabling them by ritualism, election, 
or faith to slip from the hand of justice through 
death into heaven. No; none of these ghosts 
still lingering in the shadows of departing, 
primeval darkness, fought for freedom. It was 
the Christ doctrine of brotherhood that had been 
leavening the race for ages, and had made its 
declaration of independence, and flung its 
banner to the breeze—a banner having something 
of the power of the cross in drawing all men unto 
it. The grand men of that generation felt the 
command of God, “Thou shalt love thy neighbor 
as thyself,” thrilling through their souls and 
uttering itself in conscience, which they called 
the higher law; and the voice said “Strike away 
the shackles ye would not wear yourselves; feed 
as ye would be fed, shelter as ye would be shel- 
tred, if in flight from Sodom.” 

There was drinking to drunkenness in the times 
of Jesus. Does he ever say abstain? Is there a 
direct word of his that can be used by reformers? 
Would it not be easier for those who regard the 
letter of the Bible as the bread of life and 
sword of the Spirit, had there been no marriage 
least in which, as Crashaw puts it, “the conscious 
water saw its Lord and blushed?”. When the 
letter of the Bible is used in the debate, we ad- 


332 


GEORGE H . DEERE 


vocates of total abstinence must, for the most 
part, stand on the defensive and explain. What, 
then, is the relation of the religion of Christ to 
the temperance reform? 

The only time I ever saw the Rev. John Pier- 
pont, one of the noble pioneer reformers, he em 
graved on my young memory, in a five-minute 
speech, these words: “Christian ethics keep 
lock-step with intelligence. ” In the light of this 
sentence the moral character and venerable 
piety of the divine who ordained Leonard Bacon, 
in New Haven,’ a half century or so ago, is not 
made in the least questionable by the fact that 
his church had to foot the liquor bill at the tav¬ 
ern, as part of the entertainment. As a child’s 
responsibility increases with the growth of his 
knowledge of right and wrong, so is it with the 
race as a whole, or with any community or frac¬ 
tion of it. If science and experience had not 
testified that the use of intoxicants as pleasure 
producers is prime cause of a large proportion of 
the world’s poverty, misery, and criminality, 
the attention of the Christ spirit which works 
through the common intelligence, would not 
have been drawn to it. But as it does so testify 
with cumulative force of evidence, the knowl¬ 
edge of the fact binds the conscience of the man 
who loves his neighbor, totally to abstain for 
others’ sake, if not for his own. He who loves 
in the Christ way, in our day, hears the com¬ 
mand from the Sinai of his soul compelling his 


SERMONS AND ADDRESSES 


333 


daily life to interpret Paul’s saying, “If meat 
make my brother to offend I will eat no more 
while the world stands.” 

These two examples suffice to illustrate our 
subject and make clear the conclusion that lib¬ 
eral Christianity, as defined, is the reforming 
force, or leaven of the world. Its history, bril¬ 
liant with immortal names, does not come within 
the scope of this paper; but, keeping step with 
advancing intelligence, it bears its cross in battle 
with every foe of man. The overthrow of 
polygamy and the enemies of social purity, the 
old bondage and limitations of womanhood, the 
cruel greed and vulgar display of wealth, the 
unwisdom and thriftlessness of labor, and the 
melting of competition into co-operation, the 
turning of the streams of charity from the mills 
of pauperism into the irrigating channels of kin¬ 
dergartens and simple social industries and 
economies—all this, with the limitless more, is 
to be achieved, not by the revival and rehabili¬ 
tations at the hands of the world’s Dr. Shedds, 
of the old theologies based upon infinite selfish¬ 
ness; but by the sweep of those irresistible life 
forces flowing in sacrifice from the heart of 
Christ. In other words, by the growth and tri¬ 
umphs, under whatever name, of Liberal Chris¬ 
tianity. 


THE ORIGINALITY OF JESUS 


“How knoweth this man letters, having never 
learned?” asked the Jews concerning Jesus in 
his earth life. 

There was nothing original in his teachings, 
says the skeptic of today; he learned his doc¬ 
trines of somebody. Some of them are found in 
the Old Testament, and some are from recorded 
traditions and teachings of the old Jewish 
Rabbis, and some are sayings then floating in 
the currents of thought from the older religions 
of India, Persia, China or Greece. The skeptic 
admits there may be a little variation in form 
of statement and application, but they are not 
original with Jesus. 

For example, the Golden Rule may be traced 
to Confucius. Of this G. T. Bettany in his 
“World’s Religions,” page 1-14, gives a just ac¬ 
count, saying: 

“In the Analects a disciple asks Confucius if 
there were one word that might serve as a rule 
of practice for all one’s life, and received the 
answer, ‘Is not reciprocity such a word? What 
you do not want done to yourself, do not do to 
others.’ ‘But,’ says Bettany, ‘this is only a 
maxim of enlightened self-interest, and is far 


SERMONS AND ADDRESSES 


335 


from being equal to the positive injunction, “All 
things whatsoever ye would that men should do 
to you, do ye even so to them.” ’ ” 

He further says: “Confucius being asked what 
he thought of the principle that injury should 
be recompensed with kindness, replied, ‘With 
what then will you recompense kindness? Jus¬ 
tice for injury, and kindness for kindness, but 
in regard to great offenses we find the following 
precepts: With the slayer of his father a 
man may not live under the same heaven; against 
the slayer of his brother, a man must never 
go home to fetch a weapon; with the slayer 
of his friend, a man may not live in the same 
state.’ So that,” says Bettany, “the law of 
revenge was plainly inculcated, and its baneful 
influence continues in China to the present day.” 

But waving aside as largely foreign to my 
present purpose, the question of the newness of 
many of the sayings of Jesus, and granting that 
they may be found in the old literature with 
which we are becoming better acquainted, it 
does not reduce Jesus to an ordinary man, or 
take from him his originality. 

A marvelous man among all men must he have 
been in recognizing in the rubbish the gems of 
eternal brightness, truths that are fundamental 
and universal. To know them and lift them aloft 
from their obscurity that the world might see, 
and at the last walk safely in their light, was 


336 


GEORGE H. DEERE 


the work of no ordinary man. Say he heard 
the word echoed faintly among the living that 
had been whispered by here and there a sage 
long dead, was it less than divine wisdom and 
power that could wake the whisper into the voice 
of God? 

No plant of his Heavenly Father’s planting 
was to be rooted up. No smoking flax afire with 
the divine love was to be quenched. No bruised 
reed of a truth supporting a child in his journey 
was to be broken. No truth of prophet or law¬ 
giver was to be destroyed, but fulfilled. 
The title king of truth he accepted, and declared, 
“to this end was I born, and for this cause came 
I into this world that I should bear witness unto 
the truth. Every one that is of the truth liear- 
eth my voice.” Therefore, says this king, “every 
scribe which is instructed into the kingdom of 
heaven is like unto a man that is an house¬ 
holder which bringeth forth out of his treasure, 
things new and old.” 

If there are stray sayings like some that Jesus 
uttered shining as stars in the darkness of other 
and older religions, it does not follow that he 
derived his knowledge from older teachers. If 
they are truths from whence did the older draw 
them? They did not make them. The form of 
expression is all they can claim, and that is lit¬ 
erature. A poet has said: 


SERMONS AND ADDRESSES 


337 


“How sure it is 

That if we say a true word, instantly 
We find ’tis God’s, not ours, and pass it on 
As bread at sacrament, we taste and pass 
Nor handle for a moment, as indeed 
We dared to set up any claim to such.” 

Note the delicate sense this author has of 
God’s larger claim even to the form in which she 
has conceived a truth—as if she had said, it is 
winged! let it go on its way as one of God’s 
proverbs! Who made it? Not I, it came; hear 
its song, and throw open the door! 

There are people who know gold only as money. 
They know the coin but not the gold, except 
they see it in the coin. The coin belongs to 
Caesar, the gold to God. A commonplace truth 
may illustrate. 

The fact that sensibility ’ has its capacity for 
pleasure offset by capacity for pain flows from 
the pen of Moore in this form: 

“The heart that is soonest awake to the flowers 
Is always the first to be touched by the thorn. ’ ’ 

From Burns we have it: 

“Chords that vibrate sweetest pleasure 
Thrill the deepest notes of woe.” 

Here is the same truth in each. Did Burns 
| ( arn from Moore? or Moore from Burns? Or 


23 


338 


GEORGE H. DEERE 


did both learn from experience? The truth, if 
you see it, and understand, is yours for any good 
use. The coin is respectively the property of 
Burns and Moore. 

Another, nearer our subject. “The blind old 
man of Scio’s rocky isle” sees safety in bravery, 
and makes Ajax animate the Greeks with courage 
for slaughter by an address beginning: 

“O friends be men! deep treasure in your hearts 
An honest shame; and, fighting bravely fear 
Each to incur the censure of the rest. 

Of men so minded more survive than die, 

While dastard’s forfeit life and glory both.” 

Jesus notes the same common fact, and locks it 
up in a Hebrew paradox with his knowledge of 
the spirit’s survival of the body, and of the super¬ 
lative value of righteousness—truths that made 
death a boon to the martyr, or, as the devout 
Hebrew might call it, a “kiss of God.” Did Jesus 
draw his Homeric thought from Homer, the 
thought he clasps with divine truths in the words, 
“He that findeth his life shall lose it, and he that 
loseth his life, for My sake, shall find it?” 

Or, to come still closer: we cannot think that 
Jesus had read the Odyssey and taken a hint from 
it where Minerva instructs young Telemachus 
how to accost the sage he may chance to meet on 
his journey: 


SERMONS AND ADDRESSES 


339 


■“Search for some thoughts thy own suggesting 
mind, 

Others, dictated by heavenly power, 

Shall rise spontaneous in the needful hour!” 

Or imagine that this was in his mind when he tells 
his disciples ere he sends them out to preach thaj 
they will be arrested, and brought before majis 
trates for trial; but not to fear, nor premeditate 
what they shall answer, for words shall be given 
them by their Heavenly Father; or, when he re¬ 
plies to Peter’s confession of his Messiahship 
“Flesh and blood hath not revealed this unto thee, 
but my Father which is in heaven. ’ ’ 

Yet, I repeat, there was no common character 
shown by the Master if, finding an old form of 
truth dry and dead in the minds of his hearers, h 
raised it from the dead by the power of his own 
Spirit, and set it shining in the heavens. 

But what was his answer to the critics of his 
time when they asked “how knoweth this man 
letters, having never learned?” He was a grad¬ 
uate of none of their schools, belonged to none of 
the parties, cited none of their authorities save 
the familiar Book, on whose word, interpreted by 
their schools, they leaned, and cited this often as 
a critic. Sitting in judgment over them all, he 
taught as one having authority in himself, and not 
as the scribes resting on the authority of others. 
What did he say to these learned, and really per¬ 
plexed fellow countrymen, when they asked for 


340 


GEORGE H. DEERE 


his credentials of authority, and the source ol 
his power and thought? 

I marvel at his answers, at his faith in the trust 
worthiness of his own mind, the fullness of his 
consciousness of indwelling power, his separate¬ 
ness, and independence of all human institutions, 
sharply contrasting with his modesty, self-abneg¬ 
ation, and sublime humility. 

“My doctrine,” he says, “is not mine, but his 
that sent foie. If any man will do his will, he shall 
know of the doctrine whether it be of God, or 
whether I speak of myself.” 

Again: “My father worketh hitherto, and I 
work.” “The son can do nothing of himself, but 
what he seeth the Father do; for whatsoever 
things he doeth, these also doeth the son likewise. 
* # # I can of mine own self do nothing, as I 

hear I judge. * * * If I bear witness of my¬ 
self, my witness is not true. * * * I am come 

in my Father’s name and ye receive me not; 
if another shall come in his own name him ye will 
receive. How can ye believe who receive honor one 
of another and seek not the honor that cometh 
from God only. * # * Believest thou not that 

I am the Father and the Father in me ? The words 
that I speak unto you, I speak not of myself; but 
the Father that dwelleth in me he doeth the 
works. Believe me that I am in the Father, and 
the Father in me; or else believe me for the very 
work’s sake. Verily, verily, I say unto you, he 
that believeth on me, the works that I do shall he 


SERMONS AND ADDRESSES 


341 


do also; and greater works than these shall he do; 
because I go unto my Father.” 

Strong, bold speech this, indicating some open 
way between the Father spirit and his consecrated 
child, some other way than through air waves 
in ordinary hearing, some direct way of reaching 
and informing the conscious mind. Did Jesus 
know a way, but partly known before, where 
known at all, that was wholly known to him, by 
which he could understand thought direct from 
God, and see Him in his work in nature, and ap¬ 
prehend his ways? Surely somehow, in some way, 
God can cause his child to know His mind. The 
lack is not of voices, or diving things to see, but 
of the soul’s open ear, and seeing eye. 

These words of Jesus, and others which in¬ 
volve, or express in changed form, the same 
thought ought to close discussion as to his origin¬ 
ality, and fix attention on his character as receiver 
and reflector of the mind of God, and as revealer 
of man to himself ini his higher nature as a child of 
God. Herein is found his real originality. 

Jesus is unique and singular as the first openly 
conscious son of God, a divinely chosen leader of 
spiritual manhood—showing the way, the truth, 
and the life of the immortal family of God, who is 
Himself the originator of the eternal life, and he 
all the truths therein contained. 

I can take time barely to outline what to me 
appears the most original feature in this char¬ 
acter. You will not be surprised when I announce 


342 


GEORGE H. DEERE 


it to be love; nor will you demur when I say that 
it was divine love that was manifested in Jesus 
the Christ, or find your hearts otherwise than in 
accord with me when I say, that it was God’s love. 
But. what was the peculiar quality of this love 
that differentiates it from all others? Here we 
may find variance. I can but tell you what I see, 
and hope that I am not alone. 

Christ’s working love, in the first place, was not 
begotten by others’ love for him. Such was the 
common kind which he contrasts with the divine 
where he says “If ye love those who love you, 
what do ye more than others? * * * Love your 
enemies! ” To do this is to be Godlike; and to grow 
in this direction is to approach the perfection of 
the Heavenly Father. 

It is not easy ordinarily for people to under¬ 
stand how one can love his enemies. Just not 
to hate them is an achievement of self-control 
and self-repression that lifts one above the com¬ 
mon, and is generally accomplished by not 
thinking about them. One imagines himself a 
good way along in Christian virtue if able to 
do that; but he has attained only a negative 
attitude towards enemies and saves himself 
from doing them injury. If we keep the hate 
out we simply avoid positive sin. Hate, then, 
is but an adversary to the Christ love to be 
fought and expelled. Its absence makes room 
for the Christ love, that is all. The Christ love 
calls for thought of the man that is your enemy, 


SERMONS AND ADDRESSES 


343 


and study of ways to do him good with desire 
to serve his best interests; and the desire to serve 
his best interests is the divine element, and is 
drawn from the heart of God by faith and 
prayer. Success will be according to the strength 
and power of endurance of this desire, and 
ability and skill in the use of means. Pain 
may be involved as in surgery or medical treat¬ 
ment, but the intent is always the same, some 
good to the enemy; and the higher the order 
of the good intended the more Godlike. 

This is the human way of the incarnation of 
God’s love, the highest end to which a man can 
consecrate his life on earth. 

This love may rise from trifling to sublime 
sacrifices for friends, but rarely for enemies. 
Human minds have had flashes of it beyond the' 
call of the golden rule, which generally stops 
safely this side of sacrifice. This much-vaunted 
rule is but the loftiest limit of law within reach 
of man as man on earth, and he who keeps it 
is not far from the kingdom of heaven; but he 
who goes beyond this, does so by virtue of 
influx of new life from the heart of God which 
comes by faith. 

This divine love gives all it has and gives itself 
for love’s ends. Its nature is to do for others*’- 
good; to suffer, if need be, for others’ highest 
interests. 

We call it insanity when a woman, believing 
that her child will go to heaven if it dies in 


344 


GEORGE H. DEERE 


irresponsible childhood, makes certain its sal¬ 
vation in the popular sense at the expense of 
the loss of her own soul. But the insanity is 
in her theology, not in herself. Her logic is 
correct if her theology is true, and her love 
the nearest divine of anything springing from 
earth. She accepts for herself the awful theo¬ 
logical doom in exchange for assurance that her 
child may have a home in heaven. Such love 
becomes the radiance of the cross, and gives 
it its power, when, instead of a child, enemies 
are its object. 

This glory of the cross, a stumbling block to 
the Jew, and foolishness to the Greek, so greatly 
misunderstood in the generally received phil¬ 
osophy of the atonement, has proved itself the 
power and wisdom of God unto salvation to all 
who truly believe. 

Great indeed is yet the mystery of Godlike¬ 
ness, the real originality of Jesus, still clouded 
by our earthiness; still happy are we if we 
can see, and by faith accept, our own inheri¬ 
tance in it as the children of God, and be per¬ 
suaded with Paul that “neither death, nor life, 
nor angels, nor principalities, nor powers, nor 
things present, nor things to come, nor height, 
nor depth, nor any other creature, shall be able 
to separate us from the love of God which is in 
Christ Jesus our Lord.” (Rom. 8:38-39; 11:33- 
36.) 

Let us conclude with the rapturous exclamation 


SERMONS AND ADDRESSES 


345 


of the apostle: “0 the depth of the riches both 
of the wisdom and knowledge of God! How 
unsearchable are his judgments and his ways 
past finding out. For who hath known the mind 
of the Lord? or who hath been his counsellor? 
Or who hath first given to him, and it shall be 
recompensed unto him again? For of him, 
and through him, and to him, are all things; to 
whom be glory forever .’’ 


REFUGE AND CONQUEST 

(“A hiding place from the wind, a covert from 
the tempest. Lead me to the rock that is higher 
than I. Psalm lxi. 2.”) 

The sacred office still uses the words of Eliphas 
to Job, “Although affliction cometh not forth of 
the dust, neither doth trouble spring out of the 
ground, yet man is born unto trouble as the 
sparks fly upward;” and Job’s yet stronger en¬ 
dorsement: “Man that is born of woman is of 
few days and full of trouble.” “Fate hath 
woven the thread of life with pain, and twins 
from their birth are misery and man; who 
breathes must mourn,” comes like echo from 
“Scio’s rocky isle.” Those of us who have 
passed mid-life hear with little or no dissent. 

Wind and tempest may be regarded as sym¬ 
bols of pain, trouble, misery, affliction, mourn¬ 
ing. From these is there a hiding place? Is 
there a covert that will surely shelter us? And 
have we a right to hide ourselves, if we can? 
If God sends them, should we shun them? Or 
should we face them, and overcome ? Surely they 
are not all foes; and the stronger of them, and 
the more dreaded, will follow us if we fly. If 
we face and question them, what do they say? 
We come as messengers, and do not ask endless 


SERMONS AND ADDRESSES 


347 


companionship. Will you fca&e our message? We 
are not blessings, but bearers of blessings; ways 
and means, not ends; danger signals; guards to 
drive and keep you on the obedience side of 
law; ushers of new born faculty; the darkness 
and chill of passage ways to better things; shad¬ 
ows in which God’s angels stand until dis¬ 
covered. None has existence in and for itself 
alone. They must disappear with the completion 
and perfection of what is; and whatever purpose 
God may have in their use can only be accom¬ 
plished because we are so constituted that we 
naturally strive to shield ourselves from them, 
or resist and overcome. 

The infinite Father can intend nothing less 
than our final happiness. We get glimpses of the 
meaning and worth of being and destiny in the 
brightness, beauty and joy that are so deeply 
shaded and interwoven with ills. The couplet 
of Longfellow, 

‘‘Not enjoyment and not sorrow 

Is our destined end or way,” 

makes good motto for paths of duty, stimulating 
us to 


“Act that each tomorrow 
Finds us further than today;” 

for it is the wisdom of action to secure causes 
if we would have effects, seeds and plants if we 


348 


GEORGE H. DEERE 


would have bloom and fruit. Yet it is bloom 
and not fruit we want, and for which we “learn 
to labor and to wait.” Hope of these gives us 
patience. “If we hope,” says Paul, “for that 
we see not then do we with patience wait for it.” 
Hope, which brings at least the images of good 
to come into our present, may at times be, our 
only hiding place from the wind, our sole covert 
from the tempest. 

In our morning’s study let us examine a little 
more closely the two ways open to us in dealing 
with what may be grouped under these sj^mbols— 
namely, diversion, refuge and conquest. 

I. Diversion. If a child feels hungry beyond 
need, or fear, or painful desire for the 
i-armful, or is troubled by the retreating of 
a figure, or vanishing of a face, the mother shakes 
a rattle, or taps on the window. She distracts 
attention even from physical hurt by some in¬ 
genious form of diversion until the sharpness 
of pain passes. And we may often use to great 
advantage the mother’s art upon ourselves, grown 
up children, especially to escape the petty annoy¬ 
ances that daily try our temper, and—as much 
of our brooding, to use Charles Reade’s phrase, is 
over “unchickenable eggs”—we may add, all use¬ 
less cares and anxieties; while our graver trou¬ 
bles, and deepest sorrows may be forsaken for 
objects grand and heroic. Absorbing interest in 
work is a shelter which necessity itself com¬ 
monly compels. Change of scene and society may 


SERMONS AND AD DR ESSES 349 

divert us. We may surrender to the control of 
masters of the intellect and imagination and be 
borne out of troubled self by science, story or 
song, inspired canvas or marble. But the divinely 
appointed way of diversion is shown by him who 
promises comfort to the mourners, and rest to the 
weary and heavy laden. His yoke of loving inter¬ 
est and care for others is light compared with the 
burden of self. To forget ourselves in thought 
for others, to take this yoke of his upon ourselves, 
to learn of him, to follow him as near as we can, 
to live as he would have lived if in our place, will 
surely bring us at last to sing out of an awak¬ 
ened Christly consciousness, 

“Other refuge have I none, 

Hangs my helpless soul on Thee.’ 7 

But just here I beg you let us beware the great 
error of the ages, “the linch-pin, 77 as some one 
has called it, that holds together the sects of that 
school of theology which assumes to be exclu¬ 
sively evangelical. With lessening care for other 
differences they agree in substituting another’s 
merit for their own when they appear before God, 
and another’s back to receive the stripes with 
which justice would smite them. In our behalf 
means, with them, in our stead; for us, in our 
place. Unless our faith enables us, as to merit 
and demerit and their rewards, in some way to 
change places with Christ they think it fails ut¬ 
terly; we have not made him our refuge. I do 


350 


GEORGE H. DEERE 


not intend discussion of the various forms this 
notion has worn in the history of religion. I but 
point it out as the dry rot of church morality. 
We are indebted through Boswell to the sub¬ 
preacher in old Temple Church, London, for Sam 
Johnson’s concise statement, more than a century 
old, that “to find a substitution for violated mor¬ 
ality is the leading feature in all perversions of 
religion.” The conception that anything can an¬ 
swer in the sight of God for our personal right¬ 
eousness, that he could accept anything in its 
place, weakens every moral force upon whose 
strength the order and well-being of the world 
depends. We joyously acknowledge our deepest 
gratitude for Christ’s sufferings in our behalf, 
for what he endured for us in doing his work. 
We are grateful, too, for what the Christlike, 
those who have had “fellowship with Christ’s 
sufferings, ’ ’ from the Apostles to the sufferers for 
righteousness sake in our own day, have borne for 
us. They “fill up that which is behind of the 
afflictions of Christ”—add theirs to his, as we 
must ours—for the world’s salvation. Such suf¬ 
fering is holy, divine. It is “the blood of Jesus 
Christ that cleanseth from all sin,” and except 
we drink of this blood there is no life in us. Grati¬ 
tude for it, and joy in sharing it, will grow with 
our growth in the knowledge of Christ. 

But if we are of those described in the Bible as 
“like the troubled sea casting up dirt and mire,” 
for whom there is no peace, whom God “will by 
no means clear,” who “shall not go unpunished,” 


351 


SERMONS AND ADDRESSES 

then, as we sow to the wind we may be sure of 
the whirlwind; as we sow to the flesh we can 
have no doubt that of the flesh we shall 
reap corruption. If we do not want such crop 
we must not sow such seed, for “whatsoever a 
man soweth that shall he also reap.” We must 
make our peace with God through “repentance 
that needeth not to be repented of,” if we have 
sinned against the light. With his help to stop 
doing what we know to be wrong, and to repair 
the wrong done as far as in us lies, are of more 
importance than sorrow for sin. To be helped 
to stop and repair is the best evidence that regret 
and remorse are love’s servants, to be dismissed 
when their office is wholly fulfilled. Others may 
suffer because of our sin, but that will not lessen 
our share in it. We must not dream for a moment 
that it is possible to jump from a precipice and 
another be crushed upon the rocks beneath in our 
stead. We cannot eat sour grapes and another’s 
teeth be set on edge any easier now than before 
the crucifixion; and the great refuge from the 
storm of sin established by the church upon this 
error, essentially the same whether Roman or Pro¬ 
testant, is a gigantic delusion, a veritable refuge 
of lies. Partizans of every theory of it have con¬ 
demned and proven all others false, and torture 
and death have been prominent arguments in the 
fierce debate. The prevailing theories are modern, 
and the question. What becomes of those born 
before the true one was thought of, if faith in 


352 


GEORGE H. DEERE 


any one of them is essential to salvation? under¬ 
mines the whole complex scheme. 

Common to all Christendom is the admitted 
fact that in some way Jesus Christ changes the 
convert’s idea of his personal relationship to God. 
involving exchange of fear for hope, or the re-ad¬ 
justment of hope on higher and more substantial 
grounds. Believingly to see in the suffering, self¬ 
giving love of Jesus, the heart of God, does this 
work most effectually, and makes him the sure 
refuge from the tempest of sin, the healer, re¬ 
deemer, saviour; and preserves intact our sense 
of moral freedom, and personal responsibility—a 
responsibility more naturally and surely felt 
when relieved of the infinite and horrible liabili¬ 
ties dependent upon other idea of God than the 
Christ-revealed fatherhood. 

Having faith enough in him to hunger for his 
righteousness, to take up his work and follow him 
in his thought and spirit of living, will beget, or 
make us receptive of the fullness of the faith thaj 
overcomes. His work clears spiritual insight; 
and the power that wrought through him from 
above becomes a known factor in life’s issues. 
We reach knowledge of truth that generates faith, 
and the wind and tempest surrender to the awak¬ 
ened Christ. Here we reach the final and sure 
■way. 

II. Conquest by faith. Shelter is but nursery, 
school or hospital. Growing strength is but pre¬ 
paration for contest. The strong care little for 


SERMONS AND ADDRESSES 


353 


cover. They face the storm, and find pleasure in 
overcoming. “And this is the victory,’' says the 
beloved disciple, “that overcometh the world, 
even our faith.” This “substance of things 
hoped for, this “evidence of things not seen,” 
must be something more than the sceptic has in 
mind as he proudly contrasts his knowledge with 
faith. However confused the intellect of the 
Christian hearer may become as he listens, he 
knows that it is not his faith that is implicated in 
the discussion. Could he analyze his conscious¬ 
ness he might be able to find figures to illustrate, 
if not terms to define. He might say, it is like 
the something that leads the root to water, the 
stem into light and air; like the hunger force, or 
sense of all feeding things, that knows, seeks, 
finds and uses in each its own kind of food; like 
the something which moves the fishy creature 
from its home in the depths of the slimy pool to 
hang itself above in the sun until it floats from 
its shrivelled body on gauzy wings among the 
flowers in a new form of life. It is the higher 
life’s consciousness of itself, of its own qualities, 
faculties and powers; and confident, trusting as¬ 
surance in its corresponding environment, accord¬ 
ing to the law of all nature below it. Its knowl¬ 
edge of itself is mother of its convictions, which 
seem when the knowledge is unclouded (the pure 
in heart see God) in no way contingent, but neces¬ 
sary. It may not be conscious of the logical pro¬ 
cess, yet it seizes its conclusions firmly and they 
have to it the force of things known. Jesus, the 


24 


354 


GEORGE H. DEERE 


perfect incarnation of this higher life, spoke the 
things he knew, and revealed his environments; 
and those who believe in him, and attach them¬ 
selves to him wdth what like life they have, grow 
into more and more fulness of that life. This is 
the eternal life which knows the only living and 
true God, and Jesus Christ his Son—knows the 
Son because it knows itself, and the Son knows 
the Father. 

This life that knows, and whose activities are 
•inspired by confidence and trust in its environ¬ 
ment ; which feels itself to be sharer of the death¬ 
lessness of that with which it stands related, that 
thrills with a hunger that grows, and is fed with 
what increases with the using; that gathers by 
giving, gains by losing; this life whose desires 
indicate the laws of righteousness, whose gratifi¬ 
cations are the law’s fulfilment; which finds free¬ 
dom in obedience, exaltation in humility, and has 
learned that thorns make the best crowns—this 
life in which abideth faith, hope and love, with 
consciousness that Jove is greatest and mother of 
all, is the true faith-life, “hidden with Christ in 
God,” which removes mountains, subdues king¬ 
doms, overcomes. 

Let us look away from ourselves then, to him 
whose sorrows were for us; whose grief has begot¬ 
ten all that is most hopeful in modern civilization. 
He has left us a legacy of joy. Let us forget our¬ 
selves in work for others in his name, and take 
possession of our-inheritance in his kingdom of 
righteousness, peace, and joy in the holy spirit. 


OUR CHURCH—ITS PAST IN CALIFORNIA. 


This paper was written for and read at the 
State Convention held at Pomona in 1895 and re¬ 
quested for publication in our denominational 
paper, “The Leader.” 

This paper is a short study of more than half 
a century of experience in the Universalist 
Church—an experience begun at the feet of the 
founders of our denomination. 

Our church has been, and is, a branch of the 
Christian church—a small company of Christ’s 
followers, pioneering the path through the wilder¬ 
ness of modern theological error, along which all 
must travel who walk the Christ way. 

“We stand,” as Rev. Mr. Jones of Pasadena, 
phrases it, “for the religion and philosophy of 
Christ.” This being the case, we look back to the 
beginning of the movement of which we are his¬ 
torically a part, to take our bearings, as we do 
at the sun to find our longitude and latitude. 
Knowledge of Christ, who is “the way, the truth 
and the life,” we find first in the records revered 
by his followers of every name; and then in 
human experiences testing and illustrating the 
same. The Universalism of the first Christian 
centuries was illuminated to our historic sense, 
first by the learned and sainted Hosea Ballou, sec- 


356 


GtORGE H. DEERE 


ond, and later, in this convention, by our indus¬ 
trious and cultured author, Dr. J. W. Hanson, 
whose canonization is delayed by his persistence 
in living in robust health, the oldest worker 
among us—today completing his 74th year. 

After the eclipse of the Latin church by the 
world Spirit, hiding the “sweet reasonableness 7 ’ 
of Christ, individuals began to emerge from the 
shadows, radiant with “the light that lighteth 
every man that cometh into the world” like morn¬ 
ing stars prophetic of coming day. In the throes 
of the birth of a new nation in the new world 
appeared from over the sea a man who, under 
the providence of God, was destined to be the 
herald of what seemed a new interpretation of 
Christ, and the father of a church of hope in the 
midst of the theological despair of grand old 
New England. 

John Murray standing in the pulpit of a 
crowded Boston “meeting house,” holding up a 
stone just hurled at his head through a window 
well illustrates the spirit in which the New Eng¬ 
land saints received the messengers sent of God, 
who brought to their ears “good tidings of great 
joy, which shall be to all people,” or any new 
light from the old Book, which John Robinson the 
pastor, assured the Pilgrims as they parted with 
him at Delfthaven, was full of truth yet undis¬ 
covered. Naturally such a spirit generates sepa¬ 
ratism and bitter controversy. It made our 


SERMONS AND ADDRESSES 357 

church a hostile camp like the Independents in 
England. 

Concerning the Independents, the Brittannica 
says: “What is developed in antagonism is ill- 
developed, full of exaggerations, undue emphasis, 
anithesis so sharply stated as to be almost even 
when true, dangerously near the false. A pro¬ 
scribed faith may be strong, but can never be 
sweet; and a strength that is bitter is not purely 
a religious strength. So Independency in Eng¬ 
land in the day of Wliitgift and Bancroft was 
too much hated and hunted to be able to say the 
best word for itself.” Thus saith the “Brittan¬ 
nica,” Vol. 12, page 763. 

We see this truth substantiated in all history, 
and its application cannot be otherwise than ad¬ 
mitted in due measure as we retrospectively sur¬ 
vey the necessitated controversial period of our 
church. But we who are of the family and have 
known our truly representative people, known 
them to have been a body of earnest, honest folk, 
doing their own thinking and, trustworthy, dis¬ 
charging their duties to their fellowmen as citi¬ 
zens in every walk of life; loyal to their country, 
clean and true in the home, diligent in business, 
public spirited, quick to fall into line, or lead in 
the reasonable reform movements of the times, 
and ready to lend a hand in adversity—all with 
so few exceptions that our parishes have not been 
ashamed to compare records with the best of the 


358 


GEORGE H. DEERE 


sects among whom our church has been “every 
where spoken against.” 

But the noises of conflict have greatly sub¬ 
sided,—save here and there a skirmish,—and 
given place to constructive, educational work, 
and friendly comparison of views in search of 
truth, and co-operation in bearing the cross as 
the symbol of divine life and redemptive power; 
the sign by which we conquer. 

The past of our church in California that has 
a present and a promise of a future, has only the 
measure of so much of my life as has been spent 
in this State, which will be sixteen years in July. 
Space will allow me to mention only a few facts. 
Dr. J. H. Tuttle, of Minneapolis, Minn., had been 
in Southern California, the guest of Father 
Throop, in Los Angeles, for the winter of 1880-81; 
and an old parishioner from Minnesota residing 
in Riverside, William Finch, had carried him in 
his wagon from Los Angeles to Riverside for a 
visit. He spent a Sunday and preached a ser¬ 
mon, discovering a few Universalists with a group 
of friends who were anxious for the coming of a 
minister of the faith to settle among them. I 
heard Dr. Tuttle’s story on his return, and volun¬ 
teered to go as a missionary to California, if Riv¬ 
erside would pay travelling expenses of wife and 
self out, and keep us a year. After much parley 
and my insistence, he wrote; and, as soon as an¬ 
swer could come, we were engaged, resigned at 
Rochester, sold off our things, packed our trunks, 


. SERMONS AND ADDRESSES 


359 


and started June 11, 1881, for unknown River¬ 
side, to make a home among entire strangers 
There was not a minister of the faith at work in 
the State, not a church building, not a foot of 
land owned by our denomination. 

Making farewell calls at Minneapolis, and 
preaching for Dr. Tuttle, for whom I had sup-' 
plied during his six months’ absence in California 
(my Rochester parish taking care of its own pul¬ 
pit meanwhile), we commenced our journey. 

On my way I preached twice at the Minnesota 
convention at’Austin. I also preached for the 
sick pastor, the Rev. Mr. Cleveland, of the Uni¬ 
tarian Church at Omaha, June 26th, studied the 
Mormons five days at Salt Lake City; spent a 
week in San Francisco, looking over the remains 
of a defunct parish there,—whose invitation to 
tarry was declined on the strength of a previous 
engagement, but fifty copies of whose “Church 
Harmonies” we borrowed for use in Riverside. 
At last Wednesday, July 20th, we reached the 
home of Dr. K. D. Shugart, from whom we had 
received our invitation, and whose remains we 
laid in the ground yesterday before starting for 
this convention. The next Sunday morning, July 
24th, thermometer 104 degrees in the shade, we 
held our first service, which would take more 
than time alloted to this paper adequately to de¬ 
scribe. 

Pardon the personal character of this record in 
b< ginning the past of our church in Southern 


360 


GEORGE //. DEERE 


California. It is necessary, as we two were tlu 
church in seed form, the first seed that ever rooted 
in California soil. 

We took steps toward organization at once, but 
as there were objections to our symbol of faith 
we halted, and I read our “ Winchester profes¬ 
sion” at every service in connection with Scrip¬ 
ture Lesson, with occasional comment until objec¬ 
tions vanished, and we adopted unanimously the 
articles of organization entire. The profession of 
Faith we made a part of the closing service in the 
Sunday School, and we worked on alone in the 
solitude, hoping often against hope for a healthy 
self-supporting church. So much space is due 
Riverside as the pioneer parish of Southern Cali¬ 
fornia. 

Brother Goodenough, whose parents’ home was 
within reach of my Brattleboro church in the 
’50’s, and preached his second sermon in my 
pulpit, was the next to enter the State to com¬ 
mence work and stand by until it could walk 
along. A letter from him asked in substance, 
“What he could do for our church?” He had 
bought a ranch in San Jose and no door stood 
open for his ministry. I answered in substance: 
“Make a parish, either where you are, or at the 
nearest suitable point available.” He made for 
himself the Oakland parish, under great disad¬ 
vantages and did it well. 

According to record I preached here in Po¬ 
mona, by invitation of friends, Monday evening, 


SERMONS AND ADDRESSES 


361 


May 26th, 1884, my subject being, by request, 
“What is Universalism? ” and after the service, 
organized into a Universalist Society a goodly 
number of people who would have stood together 
and been a strong parish today had they been 
ministered unto by the proverbial .“right man.” 
As it was, this parish worked along with Father 
Throop as manager, and his pocket book as chief 
fountain of supplies, until we dedicated this 
chapel on the old lot, Sunday, January 24, 1886, 
I preaching the sermon and Rev. D. M. Reed of 
Illinois, taking most of the other parts of the 
service. 

In the summer of 1886 Miss Kollock visited 
Father Throop, and did some missionary work 
under his direction, organizing a parish at Santa 
Ana, which died in the process of weaning, Miss 
Kollock being only transient. She organized, 
also, the parish at Pasadena, which has been from 
the first too near the heart of Father Throop and 
Los Angeles, to fail of nourishment into vigorous 
life. 

I corresponded with Brother Rounds of Utica, 
whose ill-health turned his thoughts toward Cali¬ 
fornia, and he arrived at Pasadena, on his way to 
work in San Bernardino, dying before reaching 
his destination. I corresponded with some who 
were too well to come. Some came of their own 
accord, among whom was Rev. J. J. Austin, of 
blessed memory; who began work at San Bernar¬ 
dino, and after a short struggle for life, passed 


362 


GEORGE H. DEERE 


away in peace at the home of his daughter, Mrs. 
Gregory, in Riverside. 

On the 26th of January, 1887, came one to Riv¬ 
erside, surprising us at night by his arrival, who 
had come, we thought, to die; but, working 
awhile at San Bernardino, he revived and took 
charge at Pasadena, and today is our Apollo- 
esque president, Dr. E. L. Conger. 

Shortly after the birth of the Santa Paula par¬ 
ish, whose story would be interesting if time 
allowed the telling, appeared on the scene a com¬ 
bination of law and theology, needing to be well 
known to be appreciated, who is now the deeply 
rooted, stalwart L. M. Andrews, pastor of that 
successful parish. 

In 1887, we had the constitutional number re¬ 
quired to organize this California Universalist 
convention. The parishes all met by representa¬ 
tion, in person or by proxy, at Riverside, June 1, 
1887, with Father Throop at the head, and began 
their record in State Convention Life. Our Japan 
Missionary, Clarence Rice, on his way to his far- 
off field of labor, dropped Rev. A. A. Rice, one of 
his brothers (all born ministers) on this coast, 
whose aims and efforts are worthy rewards far 
beyond the measure^ of anything in sight; even 
from his elevated mountain home. 

A little more than a year ago, I corresponded 
with the Rev. C. A. Garst, (then tarrying in Albu¬ 
querque to recover health) concerning settlement 
in Riverside, where climatic conditions would be 


SERMONS AND ADDRESSES 363 

conducive to his recovery while at work. The 
result was his marriage with the parish as its 
pastor. You all know the sad story of the con¬ 
secrated devotion of his remaining strength, while 
conscious that the tide of earthly life was ebbing 
away, to the welfare of the parish, which at the 
close of this year was bowed with sorrow over 
his grave in Evergreen cemetery. 

The Riverside parish built a fine stone church 
in 1891, none too good for its needs and prospects 
at that time. In the afterlight, (in which we are 
all very wise), we saw we had made an almost 
fatal mistake in assuming such a heavy debt. 
We would have been cowards and pronounced un¬ 
enterprising to have done otherwise than as we 
did in the light we then had. But thank God, and 
the heroic Dennis and his aid-de-camp Hanson, 
and the army of givers,—especially the Pasadena 
company with Conger and Jones in command,— 
whom he has marshalled to the rescue, the River¬ 
side parish is filling its lungs to shout praises for 
a marvelous victory. Let us heed the call for 
further help and make the joy secure. 


MINISTERIAL ASSOCIATION. 


In treating the subject which you have assigned 
me I shall confine myself chiefly to the considera¬ 
tion of the advantages that might be derived 
from a well organized and properly conducted 
ministerial association, having grave doubts as 
to the practicability of such an organization in a 
state where the clergymen are so few and so 
widely scattered and can so seldom meet. I com¬ 
ply the more readily from the conviction that the 
organization, successful or not, the advantages 
to be considered should be always sought where 
two or three ministers come together, however in¬ 
frequently, or for whatever work. These advan¬ 
tages may in a general way be described by two 
words—encouragement and culture. 

Encouragement. 

The position of a minister of our faith is, per 
se, a lonely one. The leader of a small band, in 
the midst of a community hostile, or at best but 
tolerant, denied Christian recognition by all other 
sects, he stands isolated from the sympathy of the 
mass of Christian men and women about him. If 
faithful, he is separated, of course, and unregret- 
fully, from the corrupt by his antipathy to, and 
protestation against, corruption; and from con- 


SERMONS AND ADDRESSES 365 

genial spirits in other sects by his opposition to 
their cherished dogmas and his propagandism of 
doctrines which they reject. And even if excel¬ 
lence of character, ability and attainment win 
recognition outside the denominational limits, it 
is generally at a discount because of the man’s 
supposed heresy; and the recognition is as patron¬ 
izingly given as it would be had the man negro 
blood in his veins. This odium theologicum every 
earnest and devoted advocate of God’s im¬ 
partial grace must feel flowing upon him 
like winter winds and making him wrap 
himself for protection more closely in the 
mantle of God’s love. I cannot envy the 
heart that is incapable of feeling painfully at 
times the loneliness of his post as sentinel on the 
watchtowers of our Zion, and of longing for the 
hand-clasp and word of cheer from fellow sol¬ 
diers of the cross. And while it is true that the 
minister’s heart should be renewed from above, 
and his soul should seek strength and encourage¬ 
ment from the inflowing and indwelling Spirit of 
God, and that he should learn to endure hardness 
from without as a good soldier of Jesus Christ, he 
yet has a right to expect, and should not be de¬ 
nied, if he be worthy of fellowship at all, such 
enheartening companionship as his human co¬ 
workers can give. I think that the power of our 
ministry might be greatly increased were our 
mutual claims in this regard reciprocally recog¬ 
nized and honored. 


366 


GEORGE H. DEERE 


But in what shall this encouragement consist? 
What kind of cheer shall we give each other? 
Shall it be mainly such as is conveyed to the 
stage star in the clapping of hands? To be prop¬ 
erly appreciated is, unquestionably, healthfully 
encouraging. But the love of admiration is a 
common human weakness, which when dominant 
in the minister is fatal to all real success. It 
leads to affectation, pretence and the employment 
of claptrap expedients. It is the soil to which 
envy, jealousy and suspicion, with their bitter 
fruits—detraction, misrepresentation and evil in¬ 
sinuation—are indigenous. It is incapable of 
forming any lasting bond of union with others, 
being in its very nature inconstant. It is attached 
to those who feed it only as the gormand is at¬ 
tached to his table and his cook, and is as ready 
to forsake them whenever they fail to supply the 
ambrosial pabulum. The minister of Christ should 
school himself to act from motives above the 
reach of human praise, and equally removed from 
the touch of human censure. Where the life is 
hid with Christ in God these heats and frosts of 
earth do not affect its action. It is then steady 
and reliable; humble, yet independent. It will 
not look for, much less claim, even human com¬ 
mendation ; at the same time it will be ever eager 
honestly to “render to all their dues.” 

While, therefore, proper unsought appreciation 
should always be found, by the minister among 
ministers, it is nevertheless not a mutual admira- 


SERMONS AND ADLREUSES 


367 


tion society that we want, but an association 
within whose limits shall be fostered and fully 
illustrated the doctrine we so iterately preach— 
the doctrine of* brotherly love. 

To my brethren in the ministry I need present 
no statement or elucidation of the principle of 
Christian love. Were it necessary, I should but 
repeat the language of Paul to the Corinthians: 
that no gift, ability, or acquisition will compen¬ 
sate for the lack of it in the minister. Whatso¬ 
ever else the man may be or have, he is not, nor 
can he ever become even acceptable to Christ, 
much less his fruit bearing branch or minister, 
without the love whose characteristics are made 
so prominently visible in the Pauline description, 
and is seen fruiting in such Eshcol clusters from 
the living vine. Its best present illustration 
should be found among the professed teachers 01 
the religion of Jesus. If not the differing theo¬ 
logical parties, at least the leaders in each house¬ 
hold of faith, should be, in their relations and in¬ 
terchange of offices, its brightest examples, its 
most perfect practical exponents. 

Is it so ? On the contrary, has not the greatest 
discouragement which many a young minister has 
felt, and one of the severest trials of his faith, 
come to him in the gradual and painful discovery 
of this poverty of the general ministerial heart in 
the very element in which he innocently imagined 
it the most richly endowed? The kindness or 
good will which our parishioners receive, and of- 


308 


GEORGE H. DEERE 


ten accept as Christian love, is by no means it 
necessarily. The same interested feeling the 
atheistic, self-seeking, though politic merchant 
will show his patrons in quantities proportioned 
to the patronage. Our parishioners are our pa¬ 
trons, and our feeling towards them is no reliable 
measure of our Christian love. When a brother 
minister is in position to aid us, he, too, becomes 
our patron, and he receives our expression of re¬ 
gard, high esteem or affection which will be—plus 
the natural homage to peace, and, it, may be, to 
excellence—in the ratio of the assistance possible 
for him to render. So men of distinction in the 
denomination may share with our parishioners a 
propitiating exhibition of our best affections. In 
such cases we may be suspected of having some¬ 
where about our persons an axe to grind. I 
would not decry these motives. They may be 
scaffolding to better things—current bills that 
may some time be redeemed with gold, but must 
not be confounded with it. Christian love will 
more naturally fulfil all the functions of these 
motives and do in addition a still better and 
higher work which they can never accomplish. 
But where these motives are uncontrolled by rules 
of common honesty as well as unsustained and un¬ 
sanctified by the better disinterested love, an exe¬ 
crable type of character is revealed that should 
be exorcised from the ministry. He is the man 
who recognizes no property right in reputation; 
who would build himself up by pulling others 


SERMONS AND ADDRESSES 369 

down, unable to endure the sight of any above 
himself, who seems to regard his brother minis¬ 
ters as his natural enemies, Hivites, Canaanites, 
Hittites, to be destroyed that he may possess 
the land—to be destroyed not openly and as ene¬ 
mies, but covertly and under friendly colors, the 
old story modified, modernized with all shades of 
culpability, of the kiss and betrayal. Such char¬ 
acters are a sufficient disgrace to humanity, found 
as they are so numerously among professional 
politicians who make no pretence to government 
by Christian ethics. But such men when discov¬ 
ered in the ministry instead of being endured 
should be swung over the denominational wall, or 
suspended by some sort of ecclesiastical hemp. 
We ought to be able to feel that our interests are 
safe so far as they are in the keeping of a brother 
in our fellowship, and to have no cause to doubt 
that we are the stronger and the more successful 
because of his co-operation. We ought, in a word, 
to feel assured that a minister of our faith is a 
friend because he is a minister—a friend in front 
on our flank, or in the rear, in our absence or our 
presence; and that if he find any part of our ter¬ 
ritory unguarded he will not take advantage of it 
as a foe but will stand for its defense. Ministerial 
friendship should not be the negative, let alone, 
every man for himself sort which is so often met, 
smiling and wordy with mere pleasantries. It 
should be aggressive, studious of general minis¬ 
terial interests, and giving some thought when it 


25 


370 


GEORGE H. DEERE 


thinks of a brother to the question, can he in 
anything be assisted or encouraged? While the 
adage, “Self help is the best help,” remains for¬ 
ever true, yet we often need help to help our¬ 
selves ; and we should not only be willing to ren¬ 
der it, but let our willingness show itself glad of 
opportunity. Our rivalries should be melted by 
a heaven-derived love into partnership and co¬ 
operation, in which we shall share all profit and 
loss. Such brotherly love, if general, would aug¬ 
ment our denominational strength tenfold, and 
make our fellowship something more than a name. 
It would do more for us than any system of eccle¬ 
siastical organization, as it would supply the life 
without which any organization among us is im¬ 
potent. In the absence of this “bond of perfect¬ 
ness” constitutions and laws with us,—who, 
thank God, have no bans or bulls that gore or 
scare,—are not worth the paper on which they 
are written. 

Therefore, brethren, though we may not be able 
to effect general results, let us, as not the least 
advantage to be sought by our ministerial associa¬ 
tion in this State, aim to give each other such en¬ 
couragement as a Christian brotherly love can 
confer. 

Culture. 

"Some of us, wdien we remember with what small 
capital we began business in the ministry, wonder 
at our own audacity and presumption; and yet 
more, that we met with any degree of success. If 


SERMONS AND ADDRESSES 371 

the Lord called us, it was from the feet of no 
Gamaliel or Schools of Tarsus. We are quite sure 
that we were not chosen for our familiarity with 
the walks of science, or world of letters, or our 
knowledge of what mankind have been doing 
since Adam kept his garden and Eve ate its fruit 
and gave this crooked world of ours its Grecian 
bend. Those of us who have grown to any extent 
intellectually corpulent since those naseant days 
of leanness, alone know the difficulties of such 
accumulation amid the distracting anxieties and 
employments of a parochial charge. Such an ex- 
perience if voiced would pronounce a new beati- 
tude—Blessed is the man who has sense enough 
not to attempt the building of a house with a 
jackknife, simply because he has discovered in 
himself a genious for making whistles. A few of 
us may be entered plethoric with academic feed¬ 
ing, stuffed with quantities, with physics and 
metaphysics, roots Grecian, Roman, and all others, 
and their modern European products, and what 
ever more was needful in obtaining parchment 
assurance for the eye of whom it might concern 
that our attainments were cosmic and universal. 
Thank God for all our thoroughly educated men. 
Our Pauls, who are equally able to preach the gos¬ 
pel in an Athens or a barbaric island of the sea. 
Thank God, too, for the better educational ad¬ 
vantages now to be enjoyed by the aspirants for 
holy orders among us, than were known to the 
fathers in our denomination, or some of ourselves 


372 


Gt.OHGE H. DEERE 


when we began. The success, however, which the 
graduate from the farm, the workshop, the store, 
or the district school, has achieved in the ministry 
—not ours only but in that of other sects—indi¬ 
cates a fact which must not be ignored or lost 
from sight—the fact that the college is not the 
’source of the truths which the minister is to 
teach; nor can it ever stand with all its intel¬ 
lectual wealth and cultural appliances in place of 
the church. A man may be wholly armed for 
every scholastic battle, and prepared for all exi¬ 
gencies in fields of philosophy and learning, and 
find himself naked and helpless before the world’s 
sin and grief. A coffin may be a more mysterious 
problem to him than to the poor unlettered 
woman who is bathing with her tears the features 
it enshrines. The armor of God is not hung with 
the arms of Achilles. There is no vulcan among 
the sciences who can forge for humanity the 
breastplate of righteousness, the shield of faith or 
sword of the Spirit. Christianity in its elements 
is so simple that the unlearned can readily appre¬ 
hend and assimilate them, if put in language 
adapted to their understanding. The culture of 
the schools but gives diversity of tongues. It 
furnishes the media of communication and quali¬ 
fies a man in a right sense to become all things to 
all men for their salvation. 

But however inadequate or complete our pre¬ 
paration, and however little or much progress we 
have made since beginning our work, or what- 


SERMONS AND ADDRESSES 


373 


ever may be the intrinsic or relative worth of 
school and Christian culture, here we are in the 
active discharge of the duties of our calling, each 
the result of an unlike course of training, and 
now inquiring what we can do for each other in 
association educationally. 

I confess lack of faith in the feasibility of our 
doing much if anything under existing circum¬ 
stances. To accomplish any considerable results 
we should meet as often at least as once a month, 
with no connection whatever with other organi¬ 
zations. A meeting of the association conjointly 
with a multiplicity of other interests will give 
but a fraction of the minister to its objects. The 
meeting should be of the ministers, and not of the 
people; and they should be alone , except when 
holding such public services as their special pur¬ 
poses might require. Were we able to comply 
with these conditions we might obtain the follow¬ 
ing chief results: Each could get the best 
thoughts of all the others on particular and cho¬ 
sen subjects by essays and their discussion. 
Faults in the composition and delivery of ser¬ 
mons, the reading of the Scriptures and of hymns 
might be corrected by criticism in the spirit of 
friendship. Useful suggestions might be gath¬ 
ered towards improvements in all matters per¬ 
taining to the ministerial office. And, last though 
not least, we could receive the powerful stimulus 
of close contact of mind with mind in quiet, care¬ 
ful, deliberative, kindly converse upon some one 


374 


GEORGE //. DEERE 


engrossing theme. To go home with higher aims, 
quickened faculties, and hearts aglow with the 
Spirit we should find to be the best results of 
partnership in a well organized, properly con¬ 
ducted and sustained minsterial association. But 
what we can do circumstanced as we are, I am 
here with you today an inquirer. 


CHINESE IN CALIFORNIA. 


(This was written during the crusade against 
Chinese on this coast). 

Jesus answered the lawyer who asked him, 
‘‘Which is the great commandment in the law?” 
by saying, “Thou shalt love the Lord thy God 
with all thy heart, with all thy soul, and with all 
thy mind. This is the first and great command¬ 
ment. And the second is like unto it—Thou shalt 
love thy neighbor as thyself. On these two com¬ 
mandments hang all the law and the prophets.” 
The second is like the first in greatness. The law¬ 
yer was not surprised when Jesus repeated the 
first. In uttering the second and declaring it 
great, like the first, Jesus made a fresh impres¬ 
sion on the learned man’s mind. Not on one, but 
on these two commandments hang all the law and 
the prophets. The beloved disciple uses very 
strong language in pressing home the same truth, 
leaning the emphasis on love to man: “If any 
man say, ‘ I love God, ’ and hateth his brother, he 
is a liar; for he that loveth not his brother whom 
he hath seen, how can he love God whom he hath 
not seen? And this commandment have we from 
him, that he who loveth God love his brother 
also.” 

Our business this morning is especially with 


376 


GEORGE H. DEERE 


the second great commandment—Thou shalt love 
thy neighbor as thyself. We often hear it said 
that it is impossible to keep this commandment; 
that it is unnatural. But the same sort of impos¬ 
sibility and unnaturalness are found in regard to 
walking in infancy and childhood. The little 
ones in the cradles might say, truly, it is impos¬ 
sible, unnatural; but one by one they creep out on 
to their feet. The command is a lesson to be mas¬ 
tered, something to be attained by grace in 
growth and experience, and is a prophecy, too, 
of existence beyond the life that now is, for its 
complete fulfillment. It is a law of the eternal 
life, whether in this or the world to come. And 
certainly it is binding, however difficult to keep, 
or often broken, as the law governs our endeav¬ 
ors to live the Christ life. It is the spirit of obe¬ 
dience to all right rule, the gauge and test of all 
just legislation. By it must we try all laws and 
institutions, determine all lines of conduct, meas¬ 
ure obligations to each other, and to men of every 
class. And by it are we as Christians in duty 
bound to determine our relations and obligations 
towards that people occupying so large space in 
public thought today, and demanding more and 
more imperatively the public attention. 

I invite you, therefore, to go with me outside 
the circle of our own interests, and laying aside, 
if possible, all self-seeking in our thinking, think 
in the interests of the Chinaman as if for our¬ 
selves. Let us bring him into the focus of this 


SERMONS AND ADDRESSES 377 

light of Christian love, and study what is best 
for him rather than what is best for us. It may 
be, and is quite likely, that the question studied 
in wise selfishness—if wise selfishness can ever 
be—would reach the same or like conclusion; but 
we could never be morally satisfied with its prem¬ 
ises, nor feel ourselves inly sustained by a grand 
underlying self-justified motive. Nor could we 
see in the darkness of selfishness how best to do 
the necessary thing, nor have the spirit that 
would enable us to do it with least temporary 
harm to him or self. 

Standing above the economic and political as¬ 
pects of the question, and taking note of them 
but incidentally, let us concentrate our attention 
on the very foundation of the life of these strange 
people on our shore. Is it all right there? Is 
there any vital principle of human existence vio¬ 
lated so universally as not only to make abso¬ 
lutely hopeless all progress, but absolutely cer. 
tain the degeneration and decay of this 
race ? I think there is; and the fact 
is so obvious, lies so open to public view, that it 
needs but be stated to be recognized and acknowl¬ 
edged. 

The family—husband, wife and child—is the 
unit in every normally constituted community of 
human beings. No number of men by themselves, 
no number of women by themselves, but a 
man, woman and child are the elements 
necessary to the completeness of this social unit. 


378 


GEORGE H. DEERE 


These elements may exist apart, but will, when 
so separated, surely fall away from human na¬ 
ture’s best estate—except, it may be, when dwell¬ 
ing limited numbers in communities made up of 
family units. Degeneration is sure to follow the 
isolation of the sexes, to which even monastic in¬ 
stitutions, where the restraints and moral stimu¬ 
lants of religion hold sway, are not undisputed ex¬ 
ceptions. Men will gradually lose refinement, be¬ 
come course and hard, and little by little part 
company with righteousness and sink into moral 
leprosy, herding together without woman’s sav¬ 
ing presence. Facts from the history of our own 
State might be adduced in proof and illustra¬ 
tion. It is not necessary, however, to strengthen 
conviction of the truth of so fundamental a prin¬ 
ciple in social being. As the common air may 
hold many things non-essential or injurious, but 
has no existence save as a union of oxygen and 
nitrogen, so the natural community life of man¬ 
kind, whatever else it may contain, must be con¬ 
stituted by the union of man and woman. 

Now, let us look at “John.” Where does he 
live? Why, it is patent to all, he lives in a hive 
with other Johns. As a family he does not come 
from China. As a family he does not dwell in 
America. He has no idea of forming a family on 
this continent. He comes, too, with his personal 
freedom limited by unbroken allegiance to his 
home government, and by contract with his com- 


SERMONS AND ADDRESSES 


379 


pany. He lives here as a mortgaged half, and not 
as a whole, unit of society. 

When Patrick comes over the sea he brings 
Bridget along, or he comes here to find her, to 
get shelter and food and means that she may 
follow him. And all races, save this, come to our 
land in families, free to accept the large liberty 
accorded them. Woman’s influence is present, 
conservative of such refinement and order as may 
exist among them, and stimulating progress to¬ 
ward something better. The mother with her 
child reigns as queen over the interests and des¬ 
tinies of the many tongues and nationalities com¬ 
ing together on our shore, and, by her readier 
assimilation and easier affiliation, is one of the 
most powerful forces producing national unity. 
She, too, with her finer tastes and home needs, 
must be supported, and the bread winner must 
have larger wages. 

Now, when we turn to John we see that all 
these better conditions are wanting, and the mar¬ 
vel is that his degradation has not been more 
rapid. We of the white race would have dropped 
more speedily to lower levels. John is conserva¬ 
tive. His goodness, his virtues, and vices—what¬ 
ever they may be,—have existed in his ancestors 
for untold generations, and cannot be quickly 
raised or lowered. But the whole weight of the 
natural law of his being is against rising to a 
higher grade, and must force him to lower, and 
yet lower, isolated from woman, and out of fam- 


380 


GEORGE H. DEERE 


ily relations. What, then, is best for John? Shall 
we tell him to call his brethren over the Pacific, 
all who choose to mortgage themselves, and live 
as he lives? Shall we encourage him, and the 
crowd already here, to remain and continue to 
live, as they must if they stay, the life they are 
now living? 

Standing above all economic and material con¬ 
siderations, I would say in the strength of highest 
Christian love for John, no, and say it, too, em¬ 
phatically for John’s Own sake. 

What then shall we do with him? I need not 
say that we should not abuse him, or injure either 
him or his property, or in any way be unjust dr 
unkind to him. The scenes at Seattle and other 
places are a disgrace to us. I blush when I look 
into the face of a Chinaman, thinking of them. 
They degrade us below the lowest of his kind. 
They are not truly representative of the large 
heart and good sense of the people on the Pacific 
coast. We must deal with this unfortunate and 
hard-pressed crowd of male fragments of fami¬ 
lies at least in some legal way,—some way that 
will not bring dishonor upon ourselves. Pruden¬ 
tial motives, if we have no higher, ought to con¬ 
strain us to this. John is here now, helpless, and 
at our mercy. If we send him home, or cause him 
to go home, it should be done without giving his 
proud government offense and cause for retalia¬ 
tion and war. Whatever might be the issue of 
armed conflict with China, we on the Pacific 


SERMONS AND ADDRESSES 381 

would get the worst of it, and might be reminded 
by our experience occasionally of the frogs in 
Egypt. Do our best, and avoid this evil, we shall 
be sure to miss his ready service when gone, and 
find ourselves sometimes sorely pressed by want 
of it. 

I do not speak to you as a legislator, afjer 
studying the constitutional limits of the power 
of our government, advising the adoption of some 
specific law, nor pretend to tell you wliat can be 
done legally. I only say, in the interests of this 
odd man on our streets, that we ought somehow 
to look him square in the face and in kindest 
voice tell him to go home and marry; and, when 
his first child is born, to emigrate, if he likes, to 
America. Were our government autocratic, and 
I the autocrat, I should close all ports against 
bachelors, or husbands without their wives, save 
in exceptional cases; and all ports should be open 
to such as might choose to come under such 
wholesome restrictions. 

When John comes back with his wife and 
child, he will come to stay; he will make a home; 
he will spend more money, and want better pay, 
and be less competitive with other workers on the 
score of wages; he will be more accessible to 
moulding influences through his wife and child; 
more conservative of the good he brings with him 
from old China, and more ready to accept the 
better things found in the country of his adoption. 
If we could but have John back, never to return 
as John Chinaman, but as Mr. Somebody able to 


382 


GEORGE H . DEERE 


introduce a Mrs. Somebody—bone of his bone and 
flesh of his flesh—we should have no more swarms 
of degenerating Chinamen, but a self-limited 
quantity of the Chinese, adding harmoniously to 
the variety in the progressive unity of American life. 

Mr. Editor: 

Please allow me a few words in general answer 
to questions concerning Chinese women. 

The Chinaman has no respect for woman 
merely as woman. She is his slave. This degra¬ 
dation of woman is one of the most deplorable 
features in the social life of China. It is, how¬ 
ever, much less matter of despair when we know 
that a wife, who becomes a mother, rises to a 
position of honor and authority. She is then a 
queen, and her tenure of crown and scepter does 
not depend on her youth and beauty; but, on the 
contrary, the more faded and wrinkled with years 
the more secure is her sway, the more absolute 
her rule. Hence I have not only said that John 
should go home and marry, but that he should 
immigrate to our country, if he so choose, after his 
first child is born. Coming to this country with 
the mother of his child, he brings with him the 
strongest influence of the best womanhood known 
in his old home. And the Christian religion, with 
its grand ideal of the sanctity of pure woman, 
ought to be able to take him in hand and educate 
him, certainly in a few generations, to respect 
woman as his equal. This is the key which is to 
unlock his soul to the higher religion. 

G. H. DEERE. 


THE GREAT INDUSTRIAL PROBLEM. 


Synopsis of a practical sermon delivered by Dr. 
Deere in All Souls Universalist Church, River¬ 
side, Sunday, January 14, 1894. 

Christianity, as a revelation from God, is 
a light on the pathway of life through this 
world. It furnishes the intellect with the ele¬ 
ments of the only philosophy of being that can 
bear the final test of experience. Under its rays 
the stoic’s fate becomes divine Providence; death, 
birth from the womb of matter; obedience to the 
divine will, the way of success and victory in the 
school and battle of life. 

Our morning lesson from the sermon on the 
Mount, of which the text seems the real point, 
throws the broad Christ-light on the rela- 
tioons of wealth to life. The failure to 
bring into the English the force of a well 
known Hebrew idiom, makes Jesus seem to 
condemn the manipulation of wealth. But 
He is plainly comparing material with life 
treasure, the earthly with the spiritual or heav¬ 
enly. The life is more than food, and the body 
more than raiment. Be not anxious about these, 
as of things of first importance; your Heavenly 
Father knoweth that ye have need of them. “But 
seek ye first,” that which is of supreme value, 


384 


GEORGE II. DEERE 


‘‘the Kingdom of God and His righteousness, and 
all these things shall be added.” This is a frag¬ 
ment of Christ’s Gospel to the poor—the great 
mass of mankind;—for, through all time, the rich 
have been the few and the poor the many. It 
was the message of one who had not where to lay 
His head, to the crowd hard pushed in the strug¬ 
gle for existence. He saw that covetousness was 
the hard master of this world, blinding even the 
poor to the deceitfulness of riches and the uncer¬ 
tain hold the strongest have on them, as against 
moth, rust, thieves and death. Beware of it, for 
a “man’s life consisteth not in the abundance of 
the things which he possesseth.” If our desires 
and anxieties, our hopes-and fears, are all fixed 
upon and rooted in the things of the flesh and 
earth, we share their fortunes to the end of life’s 
pilgrimage. Our house is built on the sand, wait¬ 
ing only the sure-coming floods. The sources of 
enduring, satisfying life are in the spiritual, in 
God. Treasure there, fears no destructive flood; 
the house is founded on the rock. 

The Christ-light in our present financial gloom 
is as helpful as when it shone out upon the crowd 
on the mopntain. The leaven of the Christ-Ufe 
has changed the world marvelously; and it some¬ 
times seems as if we could see a clear beam of 
direct light from the “Sun of Righteousness” 
penetrating the prophetic twilight of His lay 
We are yet, however, but enjoying the dawn, and 
the gleam is only the “morning star. * * *” 


SERMONS AND ADDRESSES 


385 


We face no new troubles, though they may 
come in new forms. The “tramp’’ is at the door, 
He has his place in history. We see him in the 
jingling literature of our childhood, so popular in 
a generation gone: 

“Hark, hark, the dogs do bark! 

The beggars are coming to town, 

Some in rags, and some in tags, 

And some in velvet gowns.” 

He is of our own kith and kin. He does not 
differ essentially from the poor who have a local 
habitation and a name in city and town. All 
grades of character are represented. They are 
too much alive to vegetate in dependence in 
familiar haunts called home. Goldsmith opened 
doors of hospitality with the charm of his flute 
in a tramp through Europe, and the story of the 
tramp life of the “blind old bard of Scio’s rocky 
isle” is seen in the ancient Greek epigram touch¬ 
ing the uncertainty of the place of his birth: 

“Seven rival towns contend for Homer dead, 

Through which the living Homer begged his bread.” 

In the early days of the North Atlantic States 
the shoemaker, the tailor and other crafts, 
tramped annually to the homes of the country to 
make up the home-tanned leather and home-spun 
cloth for the wear of the year; and the shopping 
was done with the tramping peddler who carried 
his store on his back. In old England did not the 
Odd Fellows have their origin among tramping 
mechanics, that the trustworthy stranger might 
be known and find hospitality and employment? 


380 


GEORGE H. DEERE 


And, men of the square and compass* whose work¬ 
ing tool is the trowel, has not your order, though 
more ancient, the same honorable beginning? 
How dark the world for the wage-earner in the 
traditional days of your origin! How hopelessly 
crushed beneath the heels of armed tramps, 
known as warriors in history, have been the hon¬ 
est poor of this world! People gathered through 
long centuries into walled cities for safety from 
armed and hungry hordes, and at the close of the 
tenth century the Christian world was tramping 
to Jerusalem, to be near the King in judgment, 
expecting the end of the world. A few centuries 
later the world, including the armies of children, 
were tramping to Jerusalem in crusades to de¬ 
liver the Holy Sepulchre from the hands of the 
‘‘Infidel,’’ and subsisting largely on religious 
charity, gifts of the faithful, or the spoils of war. 
And the populations, of Europe and America to¬ 
day are the offspring of arrested waves of human 
beings moving from east to west to better their 
fortunes. 

There is nothing new, no strange thing, there¬ 
fore, in the fact that the tramp is at our door, 
descendant as he is of a migratory race, ever 
moving to better its environment; and the practi¬ 
cal question is: “What shall we do with him?” 

First—Let us not allow him tq chill the Sweet 
charities of the heart, freeze the sensibilities 
which Christ quickens toward our fellow men and 
the common humanity, and so bring harm to our 


SERMONS AND ADDRESSES 


38 ? 


life greater than if he stole from us bread and 
raiment for his necessities. Let our counsel and 
act create no doubt in him of our sympathy and 
good will and regard for his best interests. But, 

Second—Disabuse his mind of the pernicious 
notion that finds expression in the common say¬ 
ing—“The world owes me a living”—a notion 
that clearly divides the right minded from the 
wrong. The world owes him nothing. He is in 
deep debt to the world. The very highway over 
which he tramps is the product of the labor of 
others. The maxim is the creed of the thief, who 
persuades himself that he is but taking what the 
world owes him. Act on the command Paul gave 
the Thessalonians, that “if a man would not 
work, neither should he eat.” The well man who 
refuses to work is treated kindly by the authori¬ 
ties if he is given a hard bed and bread and 
water. It is charity to his soul as well as to his 
body. The hospitality which Goldsmith received 
he earned with his flute; and Homer was raised 
from the rank of beggar by the music of his brain. 
Labor may be of the head, the heart, or the hand, 
and, if useful, “the laborer is worthy of his hire.” 

We cannot remove poverty nor crime from the 
world by legislation. We may control, restrain, 
and protect ourselves from their ravages; but 
their destruction comes only as souls seek the 
righteousness of God. the inward life of obedi¬ 
ence in his kingdom. The darkness will go out 
only as his light comes in. 



























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